The Taint Within
by Lady Pixel
Summary: She made her decision. Love aside, Alistair would wed Anora. A broken love tale for the bards. When Anora falls ill, Elissa is called to Denerim to make more decisions. But what would they lead to? Surely not to a certain mage and her child in Orlais...
1. The Beginning of the End

Elissa turned one final glance back at the Palace. It was still under heavy repair, but the Theirin flag was flying high and proud above the castle. She felt a small tear trickle down her cheek, hastily rubbing it off. There was a sudden peal of laughter from within the palace walls. Elissa turned away, slowly beginning the long march out of Denerim.

_I should be the one celebrating. _She mused. _Not fleeing in the dark like a thief under the cover of darkness. _She adjusted her pack, letting out a quiet sigh. Her footsteps echoed out into the silence, alone. There were no arguments between Morrigan and Alistair, no compliments between Shale and Sten, not even the sound of Zevran offering to do various things with Wynne's bosom. This time she was alone.

Perhaps she would travel for the next few months, visit her brother in Highever. She closed her eyes, trying to put a smile on her face. Fergus would be delighted to see her so soon. Her smile turned back into a smirk.

_And whoever had known about Howe's plans..._ She mused. _Might get a visit from the Dark Wolf..._ She shrugged, sighing. She would return to the Wardens, eventually. She had about six months until the Orlesian Wardens would arrive. Six months of travelling alone would be good for her. She walked past the Denerim Market for what she felt may be the last time, avoiding some of the still smouldering debris. She needed to get away from Denerim, away from the memories. She sighed. _Away from him. King Alistair and Queen Anora._


	2. Tainted Blood

I had put it bluntly. If I were to marry Alistair, I wished to know what would become of the relationship between him and the Warden. The Warden – Elissa - turned away for a moment, taking in a deep breath. She turned once more to look me directly in the eye, to assure me she would be out of the picture. She would leave Denerim. They were not eyes of a liar.

I had doubted her. In the days after the siege of Denerim, they had returned to the Palace together. It was obvious that they were together, from the inconspicuous glances to and fro, to the obvious giggling and murmurs coming from her bedchambers. The day before she left, the obvious relationship had put my name to shame when a maid caught them behaving inappropriately in a quiet corridor. Then she was gone, to travel before she became the Arlessa of Amaranthine, the Commander of the Grey.

Months after her disappearance, news travelled that she would be finally arriving at Amaranthine. Alistair could not resist following her, at first. He arrived moments too late, missing out in yet another battle against Darkspawn. Yet there were struggles in the Bannorn, and he had no chance to privately talk, so my informant tells me. Then he had returned, his head low much like a Mabari with his tail between his legs. He was no longer needed as a Grey Warden.

The atmosphere changed dramatically. The Palace was silent; servants tiptoed around the new King. As the days drew by, the circles around his eyes darkened to match the mood written across his face. Apparently, the cheerful and somewhat immature Alistair was taken when the Warden left all those months ago.

Occasionally, they wrote letters. Yet hers were plain correspondence. Alistair had written her love letters at first, begging her to come visit him once more, to stay longer, confessing his love for her. She had barely acknowledged it, addressing him as was proper for a King. She would occasionally remark she had run into a friend or two of theirs, but never of love. Eventually, Alistair gave up writing all together. It was better that way.

However even long after he had given up on hope she would visit, the hole in his heart never mended. Not even the most romantic walks, dinners or invitations could interest him. Alistair needed to produce a heir for his queen, as was proper. Still, every night, the answer was the same.

"Not tonight, Anora..."

I never produced a heir with Cailian. If I had, there would have never been a Landsmeet. My son or daughter would have been the next in line with Theirin blood. I was ridiculed, shamed even, for a time. Then Cailan's behaviour suddenly became strange, spending his time busy in his "study". This was not the Cailan I knew. Cailan did not "study" anything but legends and myths. I found out soon enough, that he had plans to conceive a child with one or two of the serving girls to finally produce a heir. However, he never succeeded. It is my suspicion that I was not all to blame with a barren womb. Perhaps the Maker did not have intentions that Cailan was to reproduce.

Still. If the Landsmeet was so intent on keeping the Theirin bloodline on the throne, Alistair needed to produce a heir. Yet those words were repeated, each night.

_"Not tonight, Anora..."_

Finally, I had to make my move. His goblet was planted with powerful aphrodisiacs and varying herbs. The midwives had assured me, that in this point of the month, now was my best chance. Still, to bed Alistair had almost needed to get on my hands and knees and shame myself once further. He had turned away, looking towards Amaranthine, and lowered his head. There were fine lines around his eyes now, a sudden early aging with his loss of the woman he loved. In his eyes, she was a woman I would never compare to.

He sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with defeat. His amber eyes drilled my soul for a moment, felling my own soul with this contagious sadness.

And so he had done the deed. There was no romance, no love, just movement. He had kept his eyes tightly shut, no emotion written across his face. Then when he was done, he abruptly threw on his clothes, and left. I prayed to the Maker, raised my hips, and prayed once more. Please, Maker, I had begged.

Then finally, I was late. It was promising. Alistair did not want to know, for her wished to be alone at any chance he had. Eventually, it was confirmed. I was with child. Finally, after all this time, I would produce a heir. I kept to my bedchambers when I could. I was terrified of losing this child, that the taint in Alistair's blood would somehow harm the child. Yet I grew by the day, and now my abdomen has swollen considerably. Empress Celeste even has heard the good news, sending a beautifully carved cradle decorated with hundreds of ribbons.

That is when the bad news started pouring in like rain. The messenger reached me first, almost seeming terrified of upsetting me in my pregnant state.

_"Your Highness, there is terrible news from Amaranthine." He had announced his face paling. "It has been overrun with Darkspawn, refugees have blight sickness and they are carrying the taint towards Denerim."  
_  
Alistair hadn't reacted badly at first. He was worried, his eyebrows knotting together. Slowly, he relaxed. The commander was resourceful, and no doubt in full control of the situation. Yet day by day, the news became graver.

"The commander chose to defend Amaranthine to prevent its fall, your highness. However the scouts suggest there is has been large scale attacks on the Vigil."

Alistair had started to become nervous. I had insisted he could not leave, that the babe could be born any day now. Guard were needed here, after there had been issues within the Bannorn. It had barely been a week when the next message arrived.

"I have grave news, my King and Queen. It has been confirmed. The Vigil stood for a week, however it has now fallen. The Commander left Amaranthine, but she has not been sighted again. It was rumoured she may have returned the Vigil and fallen with the keep."

It had almost been the last straw. Alistair had almost thrown himself at the door. I did not need to remind him of his duty as king. He turned, catching the shape of my abdomen swollen with child. He was silent for but a moment, hanging his head. Instead, he sent an army of men to act as a garrison for the ransacked Amaranthine. They were to protect the survivors, and report on news of the commander. Each day Alistair paced, awaiting a reply. Finally, a letter scrawled with rushed writing had arrived.  
_  
King Alistair and Queen Anora  
I am sure you have heard news that Vigils Keep and Amaranthine have fallen. I was forced to choose between destroying Amaranthine and all who dwelled inside, or return to protect the Vigil. I had hoped my reinforcements and the other Wardens at the Vigil would be enough, and while many lives were saved, the keep itself has fallen. The city has seen many losses, but it will recover._

_There is much I need to do. I will send you another letter in due course._

I have heard you are pregnant, my Queen. Congratulations, I hope he or she grows up to be strong and beautiful. I send my blessings.

_  
Elissa Cousland, Commander of the Grey._

Alistair had hung his head, a mixture of sorrow and relief across his face. He never travelled to Amaranthine to see for himself.

Now, it is time. The pains started low down, almost like the precursor to my monthly flow. Yet they grow stronger, more painful. It will not be long, and I would have my babe. Not long at all.

**** & ****

"King Alistair!" I have important news to share. A messenger's fist shook the heavy oak doors that separated Alistair's bedchambers from the rest of the palace. The former Templar groaned, pulling himself upright. It was still dark outdoors, the dawn barely breaking on the horizon.

"Yes?" He shook his head attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Queen Anora would like to inform you that she is now in labour." He called through the thick doors. "She will inform you when the babe has been born, and you may visit her then." When Alistair didn't respond, the footsteps retreated back down the corridor.

Alistair hauled himself out of the bed, slowly dressing himself. He would never sleep now_. It would have been nicer if they had just informed him after she had given birth. _He mused quietly_. Did I really have to know she was in labour?_ He sighed, turning towards the window. There was still an ominous glow on the horizon, unlike any dawn. It was the glow of a destroyed city and farmlands still partly alight. He had seen it once before, when approaching the ransacked Denerim. It was never a welcome sight.

A deep, blood curdling cry of a woman in pain echoed into his room. It was a guttural, primal scream. He shook his head. _That, _he thought, _was why I was warned. _

The cries continued through the day, then into the next night. The men in the castle didn't seem to know any different, but passing glances of the female servants begun to send chills down Alistair's spine.

So he would become a father, after only one night. He had finally produced a heir to the throne. Anora would raise the child, and he or she would rule long after Alistair finally approached his calling. A calling her was sometimes keen to begin prematurely.

"Does it always take this long?" He blurted. "Surely she must be exhausted." One of the older servants, eventually answered him.

"I can only speculate, my King, that the labour is not progressing well. Rumour has it that she has barely progressed any further than she was this morning." She opened her mouth for a moment, then closed it, having thought better of it.

"We must prey to the Maker that the babe arrives soon." She concluded. Then she bowed, leaving Alistair to stare down the corridors towards the screaming. Towards the middle of the night, the cries drew quiet, less intense. Eventually, they were exhausted, almost pathetic groans.

Finally, Alistair knocked upon the doors of her bedchambers. Slowly, the door opened. A bleary eyed servant opened it, blushing as she looked towards Alistair.

"I am sorry your highness...it is improper that you see the Queen in labour. If you would perhaps consider returning after the babe is born..."

Anora had cried out then. She was completely naked, coated in sweat and tears. She was on all fours, rocking backwards and forth, a midwife on each side of her, holding her hips, trying to help the baby descend into the world. Anora was pale, her lips almost white as if she was in shock. Alistair placed a foot in the door, his eyes open with shock.

Eventually, one of the midwives arose from the floor, her eyes filled with sadness. She approached Alistair, too exhausted to bother for a curtsey or bow. She pushed past the serving girl and outside into the corridor, closing the door behind her.

"I am so sorry, so sorry, your highness." She bowed her head. "The healers, they have pronounced the child dead. Anora, she does not know. It is taking all her strength to birth the babe, and we are almost finally there."

"D.D..Dead?" He had stuttered, the colour draining from his face. "Why? Or How?" He asked, gripping the heavy frame of the carved door to keep him on his feet. He could smell sweat and tears in her birthing room. It reeked of death and war, not of sweet smelling babes. He felt a lump begin to form at the back of his throat.

"The babe was...is, stuck. The healers will return soon....they will remove the babe from the Queen. If this goes on any longer, her life will be taken along with the babe...it will be better this way." She whispered. "As this is how the Maker wishes it. My apologies for the dire news, your Highness." She bowed low, her head down.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at the midwife. The lines of age had appeared on her face long ago. Grey hairs had covered her hair, where there once had been blonde. She was exhausted, seemingly finding it hard to remain standing upright. Eventually, he pushed the door open once again, ignoring the protests of the servants. Anora had been silent as he took her hands, holding her quietly as she cried out once again.

Anora was almost limp to his grasp, relying on his strength to hold her up. She had no modesty, no care for what was proper, crying out both in horror and for the pain as blood continued to trickle to the ground.

She had eventually begun to sob, looking up towards the sorrow in Alistair's amber eyes.

"I will never bear a Theirin child, will I..." She had whispered.

"Not tonight, Anora" He had only whispered back.

**** & ****

Anora was expected to recover over the next few days to weeks. Eamon made the announcement on their behalf to Ferelden that the babe had died during childbirth. Alistair was torn, his attention caught whenever he was delivered a message. There was many condolences from the Arls and Banns, and eventually, finally, from Elissa.

_Alistair, Anora...  
I am so sorry. News has been travelling late here, and I was horrified to hear of the news. I wish there was something I could do for you._

I'm so sorry this had to happen to you. There is too much death in this world.

Elissa.

Alistair sighed. Anora still slept, barely waking long enough to eat or use the chamber pot. The healers had insisted she would recover, that the fever was only caused by exhaustion and a small infection. They were certain their healing magic was strong enough to save her. He visited her once a day, often only to check on her. Yet today, was different. She was no better, barely awake.

Her blonde hair was beginning to thin, going grey in places. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling. Yet she was slightly more active, tossing and turning. Alistair frowned. There was a small dark blotch of skin on her arm. He came closer, a familiar, unwanted sensation crawling over his body. Her body almost seemed to be humming, buzzing. Yet there was no sound. He pulled away, pushing himself towards the wall. She was not sick with any fever that could be cured with healing magic and herbal tinctures. He backed away, the colour draining from his face. She was tainted by her own child.

He had almost run to his study, grabbing for the nearest parchment and pen.

_Elissa  
Please come to Denerim urgently. I need you in person desperately, more than ever. Please leave the moment you get this message. I need you to put someone through the joining – urgently._

_A life depends on it.  
Alistair._


	3. The Newest Recruit

It was warm. Warm was always good. Elissa yawned for a moment, scooting deeper into her blankets with a small sigh. She had been leading a scouting party most of the night, looking for straggling Darkspawn or signs of impending attacks on Amaranthine. Thankfully, they never came. The Darkspawn, finally, were retreating underground. As a reward for her hard work, she had declared they would not wake her until mid morning. Sleep, sleep would be good. Yet sunlight had finally reached her pitched tent, heating the cool air under the canvas. She smiled softly, drifting into a doze.

_He was standing by her bed in Highever. Alistair. Her Alistair. His hair was still the same shade of golden blonde. His lopsided grin was still making her heart beat most erratically. She didn't dare to take her eyes off him, and he laughed, shaking his head.  
_  
_"I love you, you know?" He whispered to her, his voice low. "Forever. Always." _

_She smiled then, approaching him into an embrace. Then she saw it. Across the room, a huge mirror hung near the wardrobes. Alistair was not hugging her, he was hugging Anora. She recoiled, running to the mirror._

"What?" Alistair asked behind her. She touched her fingers to her face. Dear Maker, she was Anora. 

With a start, she woke up. She shook her head, running a hand through her thick dark hair. Not Anora. Thank the maker.

Elissa groaned, shaking her head. _This is not fair. _She muttered to herself. _Not one bit._ The moment the Darkspawn began to return underground, her nightmares stopped. Her dreams had always been stronger than her new recruits, more vivid. Their dreams had come, yes, but they had never known half of what she saw. Elissa pulled herself into a sitting position, letting out a sigh. Now, however, she didn't see Darkspawn. She saw the next senior warden in Ferelden, admitting his love to his queen. Once, after one too many drinks, she had the most bizarre dream where Oghren had dressed as Anora and snuck into Alistair's bedchambers.... She shook her head. That was something she never wanted to think of.

She shuddered slightly, pulling her leather armour on over her thin linen clothes. She was under no illusions the dreams came from nowhere other than a guilty conscience. She pulled a boot on each foot. There was no way, that Alistair could love Anora. It was a political marriage, at best. She gritted her teeth, pulling back the canvas. Sleep would not come easy today, and there were things she should be doing. She pulled herself upright, scanning their camp. They had set up a camp in – what remained – of the courtyard of the Vigil. So many people had lost their homes in Amaranthine, and had begun to travel out of the city. She closed her eyes, remembering the fate of so many refugees from the blight. Bandits. Darkspawn. Death. She had insisted, refugees will be protected if they camp near the Vigil. With what cash she received, she would provide shelter and food. It was the least she could do. Soon enough, the nobles who had lost their estates filtered in too. They, however, filled the rooms in the Vigil. With an almost relieved sigh, Elissa had surrendered her room in return for a healthy amount of coin. She stretched her arms well above her head, yawning under the sun. Coin to rebuild the city with.

The sound of approaching hooves reached her ears. Sleepily, she turned to the sound, watching a royal messenger riding in. Elissa blinked, squinting as he came closer. Alistair's messages always came by foot, often late. The last message that reached her was from Eamon. Anora had lost her baby during childbirth. Elissa felt her heart sink. Still, she was having more success than Elissa ever would have. They could always try again...Alistair must be heartbroken.

"I have an urgent message for The Commander of the Grey!" The messenger called out. He pulled to a stop next to Elissa, his face plastered in sweat. He swayed, almost looking like he would fall off his horse with exhaustion.

"That'd be me....Dear Maker, you look exhausted." She stammered, taking the note from him.

The horse whined back at her, sweat dripping in puddles.

"Can I have a stable hand?" She called out to the crowd. "And a drink of water and a place to rest for our messenger." It was mere moments before someone scuttled to help. But she could only stare at the note.

_Elissa  
Please come to Denerim urgently. I need you in person desperately, more than ever. Please leave the moment you get this message. I need you to put someone through the joining – urgently._

_A life depends on it.  
Alistair._

A life? Who's life? Is someone blighted? Did the Darkspawn not travel underground, but merely move to Denerim? She chewed on her lip, scanning the crowd. She had never intended to return to Denerim, let alone to Alistair. He had visited her, once. However they had spoken for less than a minute, and that is how she preferred it. It had been cold, almost businesslike. Her skin crawled, the hairs on her neck prickling. _Perhaps _she mused _I'll send a recruit..._

Velanna was missing, presumed dead.

Anders was working as a Healer, and unfortunately, was needed here.

Oghren. She scanned the crowed, looking for the red headed dwarf. She heard him before her eyes rested on him. He was flat on his back, letting out the occasional drunken snort. Maybe not.

Sigrun...didn't know a thing about Denerim. Even if she _was_ speaking this week, she would need at least a few men to show her the way. Sigrun had slipped deeper and deeper into depression with each passing day.

Elissa sighed, feeling desperate.

Nathanial. Nathaniel, was, well, a Howe. She had nothing against him personally, but how would that look? Sending Alistair the son of a man who had crushed her family. She needed to explain that one first. The last thing she needed was to put Nathanial at risk.

Justice was gone, returned to the fade. So she hoped. She let out an exasperated sigh, scanning the note once again.

Her Mabari whined beside her, nudging her leg. Her hand unconsciously slipped down to scratch his head. Her fingers met canvas, however, and she glanced down. Barkspawn, her Mabari, had pulled her pack out of her tent, his tail wagging.__

"How did you..." she started. "Never mind." She shrugged her shoulders in defeat. She ran from him once. She can see him again, and then run again, like a coward. Then, she can send someone else next time. Nathaniel would be good. She would send him next time.

"Nathaniel!" She cried for a moment, "I need you here!"

She gathered her belongings, rolling them up tightly. She sighed, her muscles sore from lending aid and sheer strength to the rebuilding of Amaranthine and the Keep.

"Commander?" Nathaniel arrived, a puzzled expression on his face as she gathered her belongings.

"My presence is required in Denerim, and it seems I will not know the true reason until I get there as soon as possible. Will you step in my place during my absence?" She asked softly. His eyes widened for a moment, his mouth opening and closing.

"But...I am a Howe, my father...." He stuttered

"It's in the past." Elissa reminded, shaking her head. "You have to redeem your name somehow, and I trust you." She said slowly. "I will go alone to Denerim, but for now, I need the wardens to remain here and help rebuild."

He was silent for a moment, watching her collect her mare, strapping her few remaining possessions onto the horse. Then almost like she had never been there, she was gone, Mabari trotting beside her. He was silent for a moment, looking down the path as she disappeared into the horizon.

"Maybe the dirty nughumper will finally come to his senses." Oghren slurred from behind.

"Pardon?" Nathaniel asked, turning to face the dwarf.

"The King. Used to have a thing for the boss....actually....hic....They had a thing going with each other. He married a nug instead." He belched then, walking away as Nathaniel could only furrow his eyebrows and tilt his head.

"The Commander....with the King?" He stammered.

**** & ****

_The first place on her list to visit was Antiva. Zevran had been missing for awhile now, and she had no doubts that was where she would find him. Zevran staying out of danger sounded as absurd as Zevran settling down to marry. Not happening._

_Still, even after all Zevran's tales, she found herself in awe. It looked everything and nothing like Ferelden. Taking in a deep breath, she smelt it. Leather. Tanneries. She wandered from the docks, one hand protectively resting upon on a dagger. _

_She was to be careful here. Commander of the Grey or not, she didn't have her friends to come in her aid if she did, indeed, antagonise the crows. She knew as well as anyone else, she had a thing for falling into danger..._

_After an uneventful week of exploration, Elissa mused whether it was time to move on or not. She had stayed in an apartment above an Inn, and it had cost her. Her purse was significantly lighter, and she didn't feel like pick pocketing the wrong person. Not here, anyway. She sighed, leaning back in her chair, ale in hand. Zevran, so far, was not to be found here._

"_So you have come to take up my offer on a massage after all?" A familiar voice drawled behind her. The deep voice chuckled for a moment, and he took a seat next to her._

_Elissa found herself let out a quiet laugh._

"I thought I would eventually find you, Zev."

_Zevran smirked, shaking his head._

"Ah, but It was I who found you." He murmured, motioning to the waitress. "There were rumours floating about, that the Grey Warden fled Ferelden in the night, leaving her lover to bed the Queen. Searching for her... more experienced... lover in Antiva." He sighed as she closed her eyes, guilt ridden.

"_It was for the best." She eventually declared. "Ferelden needs a heir, and being there while that happened would cause me to lose the remaining shreds of my sanity." She confessed._

Zevran was silent for a moment. He had heard it all back in Denerim. He knew, exactly, why she wouldn't marry Alistair. He let out a wistful sigh. Elissa shrugged her shoulders, continuing.

"_I have no hard feelings for Alistair, but if I stayed, I don't think I could stay that way. Deep down, he is a strong person. He'll forget me over time." _

_Zevran shook his head with a quiet laugh as the waitress brought him his ale._

"Ah, milady, I don't think anyone could forget a beautiful face such as your own." 

**** & ****

Much had changed in Denerim since she had left. Many buildings had been re-erected, and it no longer reeked of Darkspawn filth and ash. The guards seemed to be expecting her as she arrived, saluting her as she rode through the city. The palace walls had been repaired for the most part, a few areas still under reconstruction. Dismounting at the stairs before the palace, a stable boy hurried over to take her mare. He had been waiting. She dug in her pocket for a coin, her attention, however, was at the man tearing down the stairs at top speed.

There was no denying it was Alistair, his strong frame topped with golden hair stood out anywhere. He barely spared a smile, his eyes staring back at Elissa. She drew in her breath, trying out all her senses. He always smelt and reminded her of wood smoke, yet only the memory of the smell remained. She could smell it now, some expensive aftershave lingering on the air. Her nose wrinkled. Wood smoke suited him better.

He was dressed as a King should, royally in red and gold. She pushed back a stray hair out of her eyes. He was tired, and the tell tale rings under his eyes told all. For a moment they stood in silence.

She had barely changed. She still looked well and fighting fit. There was a bruise on her collar bone, but otherwise she seemed well. She was still wearing a similar style of drakeskin armour, her hair tied up in a small ponytail. Her face was unreadable almost with a slight severity to her. For all the time she had spent apart, she looked no worse for wear. Alistair sighed. He wished he could say the same for himself.

Finally, he extended his arms, inviting her for a quick embrace. Involuntarily, she moved towards him, embracing in a quick hug. They remained there for but a moment, until Elissa pulled back.

"You needed me, My King?" Elissa eventually broke the silence, watching Alistair turn away.

"Please, just...just Alistair. We need to speak in private."

Alistair had seemed to be in a hurry, almost jogging to his study. Eventually, he motioned for Elissa to walk in, and then shut the door behind them.

"I'm sure you have heard the news." Alistair began, turning away from Elissa.

"I was sorry to hear about that Alistair" She spoke slowly, quietly. "But why have you called me here?"

"Anora has been sick...so sick, after she gave birth. I ...didn't give it much thought, but she is getting worse..." He refused to meet her eyes. "I...dear Maker, she has blight sickness. Maker knows how, perhaps it has something to with the child. All I can tell you is that if we don't do something, the Queen of Ferelden will be nothing but a ghoul."

Elissa was silent, raising one eyebrow. It clicked together so quickly. She had brought enough of the prepared Darkspawn blood with her, and knew she knew exactly why. The only way to become immune to the taint was to become a Grey Warden. She turned away, silent for a moment.

"You want Anora to become a Warden." She eventually blurted. "You want to save her life by making her, Anora, a Grey Warden?" She laughed suddenly. "A kingdom ruled by Grey Wardens? Loghain would be rolling his grave!"

"If it will save her life, then we need to do it!" He slammed his fist against the desk. She was silent for a moment, watching his expression. His humour had all but vanished. Was this really Alistair?

"How will you explain it if she doesn't make it through the joining? Have you thought that far ahead?"

Alistair met her gaze, staring back into her blue eyes. They held no hint of emotion, her face steeled and unreadable.

"She either dies a quick death at the hands of the taint, or she dies shamed as a Ghoul...she just lost her child..." He turned away once more. "Our child. She doesn't deserve to die because of me. This is all my fault."

Elissa shrugged, turning away.

"And you trust her? With all the secrets of the Grey Wardens?" She retorted.

Alistair glared at her, sudden shock across his face.

"If you didn't trust her, perhaps you shouldn't have insisted I marry her!"

She could almost feel his hurting. So he was guilty. He had impregnated her, and the taint from the babe was finally killing her. If the babe had died, perhaps she had been exposed to its blood. Could a Grey Warden's blood really cause blight sickness? That was something to think on...

If Alistair had not burdened himself with the guilt, she would have shrugged her shoulders and offered to make the death quicker. But her thoughts wandered back to Alistair, to his child.

His living child, or so she supposed. She couldn't imagine Morrigan as a ghoul. There had been reports of a dark haired apostate in Orlais, according to the rumours she had a daughter, a baby girl. Yet they were all they were – rumours.

She drew her eyes back to Alistair's. They were desperate. There was no joking, no sarcasm in his voice or mannerisms. He was serious. She took a deep breath, the words leaving her mouth before her better judgement caught up.

"Do you love her?" She asked. His reaction was immediate, the recoil, the sudden horror on his face. But he was silent. He hesitated. For a moment, she wanted to wait for the answer. As quickly as she blurted the question, she regretted it.

"Nevermind. I don't want to know." She declared. "Just lead me to her before I change my mind.

It had taken moments for Alistair to clear Anora's rooms of servants. The servants had looked puzzled to say the least, being ushered from the room by none other than the King and the Commander. Elissa took the blood from the heavy vials from her pockets. Carefully she drew a vial of lyrium, grabbing a mug from the side of Anora's bed.

"Sorry" She muttered. "The chalice is missing. Light fingers of a few nobles. I only have what I have on me." She shrugged, pouring them together. They fizzed for a moment, swirling together, the blue of the lyrium mixing with the blackish red of the blood.

He hesitated for a moment, staring down at the blood in front of him. She pushed the mug into his hands.

"You do the honours." She spat. "I'd prefer giving her the merciful route."

She turned from him, fixing her eyes on a spot of grime on the windows. So this is what would have happened, if she remained here. She sighed. She would blame him for the choices she made herself. Just as she suspected, she would grow cold and bitter.

"And what would the merciful route be, Elissa?" He asked, the sorrow in his voice cutting through her heart. She felt her shoulders sag, her voice returning soft.

"I'm sorry Alistair" She whispered. "But I would just kill her and be done with it. She dies now, or she becomes a Grey Warden and dies later anyway. You can explain to her then, that she'll be shamed as a barren Queen. You know as well as I, that you'll need to find a consort to give you a heir."

Alistair stared at her for a moment, a sombre look written across his face. His eyes looked broken for a moment, lost, almost searching for the words to make it right. She had seen that exact face once before. Goldanna had been the last person to cause those eyes.

With a sigh, she jumped onto the bed, roughly grabbed Anora's shoulders, tilting The Queen's head back.

"Do you want the ceremony, the fancy words and the like?" She smiled softly. "Though I doubt she'd hear a word of it. I'd just pour it down her throat."

Alistair stared at her, the earthen mug in his hands, filled with blood of the Archdemon and Darkspawn. Elissa had been hurt, but she hadn't changed. Not one bit.


	4. Ghoul or Warden Queen?

Elissa took a moment to gaze down towards Anora's bed. Her leather boots were crushing the fine silk of her white pillows, the filth on the bottom of her boots tainting the soft pillows with streaks of muddy brown. She smirked for a moment, her fingers digging into Anora's shoulders as she held her forward. Her bed was tainted, the irony.

Anora didn't look well. The colour had drained from her lips, her pale skin marred with dark blotches covering her like an abhorrent rash. The chances of Anora surviving the joining was slim, if not impossible. She was too far gone. For a second, Elissa hesitated. It would almost be more merciful to put her out of her misery with a single blow. The weight of her daggers pressed into her side. She could simply grab one, making a quick cut along her neck. Her problems solved.

She looked towards Alistair, his face set in sorrow. His eyes were misty, almost...tearful. The corners of his lips were turned down. Above all, there was a look on his face she would recognise anywhere. Guilt.

It would be easier for Anora to die here, but Alistair...she needed to show Alistair there would be nothing he could have done. Elissa turned to Anora once more. Anora would die either way, but perhaps she could lessen his suffering....

"It burns..." Anora murmured. "It burns....their eyes...they'll burn us all" she muttered, trying to pull away from the wardens hands. "They'll return...come back....I'll kill them all..."

Elissa shuddered, pushing Anora slightly further away from her body as Anora mumbled nonsense under her breath. If nothing was done, no mercy killing or otherwise, it would be mere hours before she died. Then she would rise again, a mere ghoul. Ripping servants from limb from limb, feasting on their carcasses...

Leaning forward, Alistair poured a mouthful of the blood into Anora's dry mouth. For a second, Anora looked like she would spit it back out, her mouth opening and twisting into a silent scream. Her blue eyes shot open quickly, before rolling into the back of her head. Her eyelids remained open, the whites of her eyes showing. Elissa let her go, jumping off the bed and away from the Queen. Anora's body stayed unnaturally rigid, as if she was still held in place by the commander. Beads of sweat appeared at her brow, rolling down her face. She lurched forward, her hands grabbing out at her throat.

For a moment, Elissa thought she would take a breath. She struggled, unlike any recruit she had seen. She thrashed, trying to move the blood from her throat. Elissa turned to Alistair. He was pale, terror written across the cold sweat on his face. His breath came in forced jerks, his hands trembling. Elissa turned away, not willing to watch the display. She had never seen him like this....or maybe once. Her expression turned sour. Yes, she had seen him like this once. He had invited her to his tent.

He was no stranger to the joining. He had been in a similar position as Anora was now, hands to her throat. He had even watched Elissa squirm and thrash much like Anora. Only Elissa was never covered in the filth of the taint...

Then, with no warning, Anora's body fell limp, her face falling into the sheets in front of her, bending her unnaturally in half. Anora, as suspected, was dead.

"Alistair. I'm sorry. There isn't anything I can do..." Elissa whispered. "This...was...just fate."

Alistair hung his head, exhaling slowly. Guilt was written across his face as he turned away.

Then she stirred. A sudden groan, a shudder.

"By the Maker..." Elissa began. "I thought...I was sure... she was dead." Her eyes went dark, her fingers pausing on a dagger. A Ghoul? Did Alistair now have to watch her die a second time again, now a tormented and twisted Ghoul?

Anora's eyes flickered, her eyes slowly opening. Elissa and Alistair hovered over her, their eyebrows raised. However, Elissa was the only one who had loosened her dagger from its scabbard...

"Where am I?" Anora murmured, colour slowly returning to her lips. She straightened then, falling back onto her muddy pillows. Elissa watched her chest rise and fall weakly for a moment, slowly building up into steady even breaths. She took a step backwards, any remains of words lost to her.

Alistair took Anora's hand.

"I am so sorry it happened this way, Anora. You were sick...with the blight...I..uh..."He turned away. "Elissa saved your life. She has added you to the ranks of the Grey Wardens to save you from the taint."

Elissa felt bile rise in her throat. She was sure Anora would die. Positive. In fact, she had wanted it for her. She turned away, trying to process the thought. She had simply felt it would save Alistair from guilt, from the desperate look across his face. And it had. Just not in the way she had expected, or hoped for that matter. _By Andraste's blood_ she thought, _what on Thedas have I done?_

Anora said nothing, temporally stunned and exhausted.

"You could have let me die..." she began. "Yet you save my life?" It sounded like a question, quizzical. "How....unexpected..."

_Oh Maker._ Elissa thought. Sendi**n**g Nathaniel or Oghren may have actually been the better idea. They would have had no issue killing a blighted Queen. They would have felt no extreme devotion to the King. What would have Morrigan done? Better yet. What would Morrigan say, if she told her she saved the Queen from death? A familiar voice rolled into her head then, and whether it was a figment of her imagination or not, the message was the same.  
"'tis a foolish thing you have done." It drawled. "It would appear that you do, in fact, want to force the fool away from you. I would have just killed her and have it over and done with..."

"I am sorry I failed you." Alistair broke the silence, his voice sombre. He leaned in, somewhat slowly, and kissed Anora upon the cheek. "This was my fault."

Elissa felt her stomach churn. She was pinned in Anora's room, watching Alistair kiss her cheek, much like he had once kissed her an eternity before, every morning before they faced the day ahead. Then it hit her. A sudden desire to leave. Run.

She remembered the next few moments as fragments. Her hands in front of her as she shoved an offending chair out of her way. Slamming into the oak door as she flung it open. The sound of running on wooden floors hammering in her ears. Her heart slamming in her chest. Nausea. Servants staring with mouths open. Slipping on the stairs. Hauling herself upright. Fleeing like a child from the monster in the cupboard. Worse yet, tears. Running down her cheeks, a sickening feeling rising from her stomach... was that regret?

She had a room here, in the Palace. She needed a moment to regroup her thoughts, and it would be a good place as any. Then she would leave, and never, ever, return. This time she meant it.

**** & *****

Elissa softened slightly when she returned to her bedchambers. Her bed was unmade, the covers still on the floor exactly how she had left them. Starfang still stood in its case, a few Mabari treats on the table by the window. Her room was _exactly_ how she left it. She had left Starfang, still coated with blood, as a silent reminder of the blight. Eventually, she planned to gift it to the Chantry, or somewhere, where it would be seen and cherished. The black tainted blood a reminder to all to be vigilant...to remember the sacrifices made. She glared at it for a moment, tempted to take it with her. It would still be of use.

She had complained endlessly when the servants had kept coming to clean her bedchamber each day. It reminded her of a happier time when her worst fear was mother bringing her a "lovely" man who would be joining them for dinner. She snorted for a second. They may have been "lovely" in front of her mother, but the moment they had a chance alone.... the vulgarity would begin. It seemed, since she was so adept with fighting and traditional men's hobbies, that she wouldn't notice if they failed as a gentleman. She smiled somewhat slowly. She had it down to a fine art: Invite them to bed. If they accepted, then they would be rejected and sent on their way. If they declined...well, that never happened in Highever. Her eyebrows furrowed once. It had happened once at camp...

She took a step in, leaving the door ajar behind her. Her Mabari was asleep in the corner, her old bedroll had become his, once the servants had scrubbed at the mud to their hearts content. She smiled slightly, looking at the worn and stained fabric. There had been too many nights sleeping on mud for those stains to come out...

It was like returning home after a long absence. Her heart sunk for a moment. She had returned to Highever somewhat briefly, but she had felt the pain Fergus was feeling too clearly. Mother, Father, Oriana, Oren. Fergus had his own problems; he was to find a wife to bear the Cousland name. Yet he couldn't do it, his grief consuming him. She had been encouraging him, felling much the hypocrite. Then he had asked her about Alistair suddenly, hope flashing across his eyes. She could see the plan crossing his eyes as they looked down to her abdomen once, then back to her face. She had fled to Antiva then. If she was running from her problems, Maker help her, she may as well run from them all.

"The answer to your question was no." The voice behind her startled her out of her daydream. Spinning, she found herself face to face with Alistair.

"What?" She asked, dumbfounded.

"You asked if I loved her. The answer was no." He repeated, the amber in his eyes still burning with guilt. Elissa was silent, doubt hanging in her mind.

"I spent one night with her, Elissa. She was on her knees, begging me to just give her that one chance to have a child of her own. It was my duty, nothing more. Duty..." The last word seemed to twist on his tongue, a hint of resent in his tone.

"Wh...You conceived a child after one night?" Elissa stammered suddenly. Conceiving, especially for a Grey Warden, was supposed to be a challenge. However, Morrigan was apparently the mother of a young babe. Alistair's young babe. After one night. And so Anora needed only one night too.

She turned, trying to hide the sudden pain that hit her across her face. He had seen it, concern covering his. Elissa never carried a child...for long. Elissa marched straight to the window, forcing it open.

"I need air." She declared. "It's stuffy in here."

"It's how you left it." He sighed. "Windows shut and all."

_When she was marching on the road, it had been almost impossible to keep track of her monthly cycles. She had the moon to go by, and the never-ending clouds and rain often hampered her efforts. She often wished she had paid more attention, when her tutors taught her how to tell the days by the position of the sun and moon. No point in regretting that now._

_Elissa buried her face in her hands. Wynne watched her from afar. She had distracted Alistair away from her, busying him with tasks such as collecting firewood, hunting with Zevran and Sten, sending him to collect some more supplies that Bodahn did not stock, such as elfroot for her and toxins for Zevran and Morrigan. Elissa was certain she knew._

_Still, the pains came. With the next sudden stabbing pain, Elissa groaned, grabbing her stomach. She had ignored it when she first thought her cycle was late. She had nothing to go by, no dates in her memory. Then the nausea had started. She didn't even think she could be pregnant, not once. The nausea, she concluded, was merely due to the fact it was Sten and Alistair's turn to cook. She had looked up, suddenly staring Zevran down. Or the assassin. She glared at him, staring daggers. He looked up at her, concern written over his face. Then she let out a hiss which slowly turned into a warning growl as he approached her._

"I don't know what you've done." She spat. "But when I find out, I will tear you from limb to limb, feeding whatever remains I haven't crushed to my dog..." She growled, the ferocity in her voice confirming the threat.

_He had stopped approaching then, taking a few steps backwards._

_She knew that falling pregnant would crush them. She was currently responsible for the whole of Ferelden. A pregnant woman waddling to the Archdemon would help no one. So, naturally, there was absolutely no way she could not be pregnant. Or so her theory went. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't going to happen...they had been using the latest technology in contraception. Foolproof. _

_Then came the pains, and the blood. They started as normal aches, but quickly escalated to the torment of stabbing pains. It had taken moments to add two and two together. With a cry, she had covered her mouth and returned to camp, tears staining her cheeks and the pains keeping her hunched over, a hand pressing firmly into her stomach. She had looked at Wynne, one hand cradling her abdomen. Wynnes expression was one of concern, and she felt the warmth of healing magic surround her, warming her before falling away. Then Wynnes expression fell. Sorrow. That is when she started bossing Alistair around, keeping him busy. There were no words needed for the exchange. There was no time. They were two days march away from the Landsmeet. Alistair needed to focus his attention on becoming king, not fussing over her. After an hour of occasional sobs, Morrigan had stalked over, dropping two potions at her feet._

"_The first one will stop the pain." She had announced. "The other..." she paused for a moment, suddenly showing a speck of emotion on her face. She hardened again, jutting her chin forward. "The other will stop you making such.....it will prevent you falling pregnant." She finished._

_She had heard her muttering as she walked off._

"A Fool...eel skin....'tis like she was asking for the trouble it brought her!"

_After the Landsmeet, it had almost been no surprise when Alistair had told her she would be unable to carry his baby. She had turned away, admitting defeat. He was right. She looked at him carefully for a moment, studying him. Alistair asked so very little of her, yet she saw him crave something day after day. Family. Family, was something Alistair wanted. No, Needed. Could she really deny him of that?_

"Elissa?" Alistair asked, breaking her daydream once more. His voice was soft suddenly, and he quietly closed the distance between them. She felt her heart flutter in her chest. Battling the prison she had locked it under.

"Your Majesty?" She responded flatly, turning to him. His eyebrows furrowed.

"It's not, _Your Majesty." _He spat. "It's _Alistair." _

Elissa shrugged, watching him.

"It's what is proper."

"Elissa." He almost sounded angry now. "We travelled together, we defeated a damn blight together, when I was nothing but a bastard prince. You called me Alistair then, so call me Alistair now, damn it. Nothing has changed!"

"Has it not?" She whispered. "I am the commander of the Grey, not an alleged criminal travelling with a varied collection of apostates, bastards and assassins, and you are no longer a bastard prince, you are The King of Ferelden."

He grabbed her hands, staring into her eyes.

"You are still Elissa, and I am still Alistair. That much has not changed. Neither has the fact I still love you." Elissa felt the lump in her throat tighten. "You're leaving again, aren't you?" He whispered.

She forced a nod. He let go of her hands, his expression broken. She didn't know if he was angry or sad, or perhaps just lost.

_I don't like this. _She mused. Without better judgement, she opened her mouth once more.

"What has happened to you, Alistair? No humour, no life? Just the guilt, the worry, the broken..." She whispered. She had no better words for it. He said nothing for a moment, confusion written over his face.

"Broken?" Alistair repeated, a hint of sarcasm rising to his voice. "Broken? I wonder how that happened Elissa? Do you think you can guess when that happened? Or did that happen _after you left._"

She was silent, holding her expression neutral.

"I suppose you really are not Elissa I know." He eventually confessed. "The Elissa I knew wouldn't have asked such a ridiculous question. The Elissa I knew never ran away when things got tough." Turning on his heel, he left. Silently she stood fixed to the spot, her hands still frozen in the position they were in when his once callous fingers had grasped hers...

**** & ****

She paced. Backwards, forwards. And it drove her insane. Does Alistair love Anora? Why did the child make Anora...blighted? What happened to Morrigan, if childbirth made Anora ill? Where is Morrigan's child? _What, _is Morrigan's child? What does Alistair plan to do now Anora is a grey warden, and will never give him a child? Will he find a consort now, to add insult to injury?

Elissa felt her mood darken further. As far as she was concerned, Anora was now, directly equal to her. Anora had always been that head above her. The only other daughter of a Teryn. However, Anora had the connections to make her Queen to Cailan. Elissa felt a shudder run down her spine. Not that she would have wanted to marry Cailian.

Anora had always been that tiny bit older, that grain of salt wiser. They had stared at each other sometimes at the Landsmeets, and she would have been a fool if she didn't see it. The raised eyebrow, the smirk, the glance Anora would make, between Bryce and Calian. Cailian was the most obvious choice for a king, the son of King Maric. Yet, Bryce, he would have been the responsible one.

Then it all didn't matter. She was a Grey Warden, fighting the good fight. Alistair would be the next king, and if she had her way, she would become Queen and provide a child. A child of Cousland and Theirin bloodlines. The obvious_ and_ responsible choice.

Then, Elissa had the discovery she would never be able to provide a heir for Alistair, yet, Anora could. The shock had numbed her, and she felt it, the knowing smirk of Anora's filling her mind once again. Anora won. Alistair and Anora were to wed.

Yet, now both wardens, they were one in the same. The same taint ran through her blood, preventing them from birthing a live child. But Alistair was still married, a vow which would be near impossible to break under the Chantry's eyes. Maybe not for a commoner, but a King, it would be a heinous act to commit...

Unconsciously, Elissa's pacing brought her way to Alistair's bedchambers. She looked up, recognising the elaborate carvings on the double doors. She felt her heart sink. At least he had one heir. An old god. With a mother no other than Morrigan, witch of the wilds. _Too bad Cailan wasn't alive. _She mused. _At least, he would have seemed thrilled with having such a mysterious and magical child..._

She glanced at the door, an impulsive decision taking hold. While there were answers to have, she would have to find them. It was simply the nature that ran under her veins.


	5. There is a ghoul in everyone closet

Elissa knocked quietly on Alistair's door. There was no sound on the other side of the heavy oak doors, not even a shuffle or acknowledgement he had heard the knock. She tried to turn the handle and push the door open, but the oak held and the door refused to budge. Yet she knew he was in there. Once again, she raised her hands to knock, and simply hit the door harder.

"Alistair" She hissed. "Open the door."

It was still silent, bar a slight shuffling of feet giving him away. With a swift kick, she slammed his door open with the heel of her boot.

Alistair looked up, startled. He had been sitting on his bed, his face lost is hands.

"Not feeling patient today?" He asked, an eyebrow rising on his forehead. With a shove, she slammed the door back into place.

"Usually, when I see you kick doors open, the person inside has done something terribly wrong." He dryly added, nodding towards the sudden furious look that played across her face.

"And usually, you reserve that look for when someone has _really_ irritated you, and you plan to make them pay with their lives."

"Alistair!" her hiss slowly raised into a threatening growl. "I left Oghren and Nathanial Howe in charge of Amaranthine for you. For you, I risk the ruins burning back to the ground. Next time, open, the, damn, door."

"A Howe?" The silence was broken by the surprise in Alistair voice. The steel business like front vanished from his voice, replaced with surprise.

"It has barely been a year since I stripped the Howe's of their title, and you are already putting them in charge of Amaranthine" He shook his head, seemingly amused. "I should have guessed."

"Nathanial is a warden, Alistair." A smile played softly on her lips. "Long story. He was in the free marches while his father plotted..."She trailed off.

"Either way, I was given the choice to either conscript him last year, or have him executed for his father's crimes. I figured at the least, if he survived the joining and ran from Amaranthine he would still be bound to the taint. He was a skilled fighter, no point putting it to waste. Over the last year he has built my trust." She shrugged.

Alistair was quiet for a moment, watching her expressions change. She sighed, tucking stray hairs back into her pony tail.

"Besides, he may have some luck while I am away. It seems that whenever I look after an estate, it suddenly becomes a magnet for being destroyed by Darkspawn or men." She snorted for a moment. "Terribly unfortunate for an Arlessa."

Alistair tilted his head for a moment, watching her. She had almost been sarcastic, yet she had hung her head ever so lower.

"Thank-you." He blurted. "I mean it. You didn't have to come here. You don't even like her...yet you saved her life."

Elissa said nothing, hiding the regret she felt building up in her throat.

"Anora dealt with most of the problems at court. She was the one in power." He shrugged. "Yet above all, I could see what she wanted. She wanted a heir, a child, of Theirin blood. It strengthened her position as Queen, secured her purpose. Above all...I think even she has maternal desires..." Alistair either didn't notice Elissa turn away, her gloved fingers tightening into a fist, or ignored it.

"I had begun to think at first, that once she had her child, I could travel...perhaps return to the Wardens. Then, the more pregnant she grew, I realised that my duty was only now tied down to Anora...I would have to help raise my child. Maker help me, but what father would I be if I...just...left." Alistair sighed. "What if she raised my child to be just like Loghain? All treacherous, and well, creepy?"

"Never happen." Elissa interrupted. "Loghain didn't love cheese."

"W-what?" He stammered.

Elissa smiled, taking a deep breath in as she summoned as much bravado as she could.

"One of the Nobles was talking about it at the keep, once. Your father, Cailan and you had something all in common. You all loved cheese. Apparently Loghain didn't share the love. I can't see any son or daughter of yours without the love of the yellow stuff." She smiled softly.

Alistair smiled briefly before it fell back into a depressed stare.

She sighed, resisting the urge to sit next to him, let him rest his head on her shoulder...

She loved him. She gave him away to save Ferelden. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears begin to fall. She had wanted him to remain with the wardens, for him to remain her knight, to run away with her. But Ferelden needed him more. And he needed Anora more. Then merely days after making her decision, she gave him away again. To Morrigan. To a woman she considered no less than a sister. Because it would save their lives. Maybe even his.

"I'm just so sick of the death." He announced. Elissa looked back to him, carelessly wiping the tears from her cheek with the back of her glove.

"Who isn't?" She retorted, wiping the other cheek.

Alistair looked towards her then, his eyebrows knotting with concern. His amber eyes pierced through hers.

"You're crying?" He seemed surprised, almost reaching towards her. She shrugged, straightening up. The tears had dried for a moment, yet still threatened to fall once more.

"Death. Sad times." She offered.

"Don't expect me to believe it. You are as cold as steel at the best of times. What is on your mind?" He asked once again.

She turned away, trying to change the subject.

"Do you think Morrigan is alright?" She whispered. "I have heard rumours of a dark mage nestled within the Orlais court who has a small child, but that could be anyone. Anyone."

Alistair's eyebrows furrowed further, concern for the apostate's well being far from his thoughts.

"Morrigan? In Orlais? In the Orlesian _Court?" _He spat. "You don't think...she wouldn't....she would."

Elissa laughed for a second.

"It could be a_nyone." _ She folded her arms across her chest. "More importantly, I trust her. She saved your life, Alistair. If not, she saved mine. I will find her, someday." _Someday soon. _She added, somewhat mentally.

Alistair frowned, relaxing.

"If you are so sure..."

"I am." She interrupted. "But I was more concerned for her wellbeing. If Anora became sick after childbirth, Morrigan..."

"Anora would have...been exposed to the child's blood." Alistair sighed. "The babe died during her childbirth....it lasted two days, and she was exhausted. The midwives had said...the babe had become jammed within her hips. Or something like that."

Elissa closed her eyes. She didn't want to think of it. Oren had almost shared the same fate. Her mother had told her not to be alarmed, that the Couslands never had trouble with their babies. The Couslands seemed invincible. Shaking her head, she sighed. There would be no children for this Cousland.

"I'm sorry Alistair...I wish there was something I could have done to help back then." She whispered. "but...I have to ask something." She straightened her back, trying to choose her words carefully.

"We are Grey Wardens, immune to the taint." She whispered. "But can we...really, share that? Are we the same monsters we drove underground? Could our blood, or those of our babes, _really,_ cause blight sickness? Could my blood turn a friend to a Ghoul?" She whispered. Images haunted her mind, Morrigan, blotched and wretched, howling and insane. She shuddered, trying to remove the image.

Alistair had only looked at her, his head to the side.

"You would know as much as I would." He shrugged. "Maybe you'd be better off asking someone from Orlais?"

Elissa chewed on her lip, nodding slowly.

"Alistair?" She asked, her fingers trembling.

"What do you plan for a heir?" She blurted. Alistair froze for a second, his eyes fixed to the floor.

"I do not know." He had simply stated, his eyebrows furrowing together at the sudden question.

"Elissa....I, Elissa I've just lost my child. And I'm married to Anora....she's my Queen. I can't just....change that, can I? Because she lost her babe, then she fell sick with the blight and it was **my** fault."

Elissa turned, resisting her stomach's urges to empty itself on his royal floor.

"I see" She whispered. "I can't stay, Alistair. I have so many things I need to do.... If you need any assistance from the Grey Wardens, contact Nathanial Howe in Amaranthine." She stated plainly, her breathing hitched. "I'm leaving for Orlais."

He paused for a moment, that he was sure he would regret. After hearing no answer, she stalked back to the door she had only just kicked open a moment before, and slammed it behind her as she left. Then, without another word, she was gone.

**** & ****

_Nathanial_

_I would appreciate it if you and Oghren watched over the Vigil during my absence. If there is any situation that you must leave for, I ask you place Oghren as your second in command. Yes, he will probably be drunk, but I have faith in his abilities._

_Queen Anora has now joined our ranks as a Grey Warden, although I suspect it will be more of an honorary title. There is much to explain at length. If need be, King Alistair will fill you in. Otherwise, wait for my return. However, my attention is needed elsewhere. There is a friend who needs assistance; she was a companion during our travels to quell the blight. She is suspected to be in Orlais. If you do not hear from me again, her name is Morrigan, daughter of Flemeth, witch of the wilds. I may be some time, and I am sure you will do fine without me._

_Look after each other._

_Elissa Cousland, Warden Commander. _

_**** & ****  
_  
She left Denerim running. Her hound nuzzled her for a moment, licking off one of the tears that remained on her glove. Occasionally, she would burst into tears, then narrow her eyes and harshly wipe them away once more. She would go to Orlais by ship, and find Morrigan. She needed answers, and by maker, did she need them now

**** & ****

_Saying her goodbyes to Zevran in Antiva was easier than she expected. With a hug and a quick peck on the cheek, he had almost ushered her away to Orlais. She felt his unease about her staying in Antiva, and she was sure he was up to no good. Something, no doubt, she didn't have the energy to be involved in. Yet Zevran seemed content enough, even under his bravado. _

_When she had reached Orlais, Elissa was more than suspicious that Leliana had come to greet her. _

"_Maker's breath, Leliana!" Elissa exclaimed. "How did you know...? It was Zevran, wasn't it." She insisted, narrowing her eyes._

Leliana had smiled sweetly, wrapping one arm around her, directing her into the hustle and bustle of the crowd of Val Royeaux. 

"_My my Elissa" The bard laughed. "But we have only just reunited! I cannot spill all my secrets just now, can I? I can see by the look in your eye there is much you need to talk about!" She laughed, ignoring the suspicious glare directed her way._

"We shall go for a drink, no? We have a lot of catching up to do!" 

**** & ****

Elissa stood at the docks, staring out at all the boats. Taking a deep breath, she began scouting for one who would be able to take her to Orlais.

"Warden!" A familiar voice laughed behind her. "I must say, it is such a surprise seeing you here." Isabella walked out from behind her, folding her arms. "Have you come to see me once more in my cabin? I would quite like that..."


	6. The Siren's Call

Elissa groaned, holding her stomach as the ship rocked on the open sea. Travelling by ship had never agreed with her. With one hand placed over her mouth, Elissa slid down the wall of her cabin. Unfortunately, a pirate's life would never be for her.

Between sleeping and trying to get fresh air (and desecrating the side of the ship), her time was limited. Eventually, finally feeling well enough to eat, she grabbed her pack.

She rummaged through the contents for a moment, hunting for some stale cakes, or something that would spare her the nausea the moment she stood up from her bunk.

Instead, her hands pulled out thick wads of vellum, tied together with a simple bit of string. With a frown, she pulled them open.

_Elissa_

_I figured you might want to keep these. I don't, for it doesn't do me any good to grovel to you. You've obviously made up your mind – you don't want anything, or very little, to do with me. If that is what you want, keep these or burn them. I can't stand to see them here. I don't understand why you sent each of my letters to you back with your reply, but if you don't want them, for all I care, burn them._

_Alistair._

__

Elissa, my love.

_Where are you? Andraste's blood Elissa, I knew you planned to visit Highever and travel, but you didn't even say goodbye! _

_Are you angry with me? Did I say something wrong? _

_But Maker's breath, Elissa, I miss you and you have only been gone barely a morning. _

_I love you, Elissa. Wherever you are, don't stay long. Return to me in Denerim. Maker's breath, how I'd love to travel with you again._

_Until then, a thousand kisses, my love._

_Yours Always  
Alistair._

_Fergus, if you are reading this, please pass it on. I know you know where she is. _

-& -  
_  
Your Majesty _

_I passed the letter on to Elissa as you have asked. She has asked I inform you she will be travelling out of Ferelden for a few months. She has asked me to attach this letter, and to let you know she will be returning to Amaranthine for the beginning of spring. I have not consulted her on this particular matter, but I'm sure here is a good place as any for my little sisters letters. I will forward them on whenever I can._

On a more serious note, I am concerned for her. She is has spent most of her time here sullen and withdrawn. I can understand this is a most difficult place to be, and I admit it is almost hauntingly quiet now, the usual hustle and bustle muted with the rebuilding. I do wonder however, if it is really the cause of her behaviour? She seems truly unhappy.

_Fergus Cousland, Teryn of Highever_

- % -

_Your Majesty_

_I must apologise to you in which I did not ask to take your leave. I am overly eager to travel one more, and perhaps visit some old friends in new places. _

_I am confused why you ask if I am angry with you, your Highness. I would have thought we left on a very pleasant note indeed._

I have no immediate plans to return to Denerim. After my travels will be complete, I plan on arriving in Amaranthine to begin recruiting and rebuilding the Ferelden Wardens. I imagine it will be a long and arduous task. No need in you stretching your supplies to aid the Grey Wardens, consider your time served.

_I ask for your forgiveness, but farewell for now._

_Elissa, Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens._

- % -

_Elissa_

_Maker's breath Elissa! I'm not sure if the letter I am reading is really from you or not. A "very pleasant note?" Perhaps you mean, "Vanishing during my engagement party?" _

_Where on Thedas are you travelling to? _

_Somehow, I am not surprised. You never follow the beaten path, do you? All I wish is for your happiness and safety. There would be nothing that could compare with losing you. _

_Is there something wrong? There are rumours of the commander leaving Denerim with a face filled with sorrow. I would rather be eaten alive by Darkspawn than know you were unhappy._

_At the very least, be safe during your travels. Or at least, I'll imagine you'll be safe. Or hmm, maybe try. When I hear that you have been imprisoned in Orlais by disposing on everyone and anyone that stands in your way, then I will know you are up to your old tricks. _

_Or maybe I will be surprised, because that would mean they actually caught you...no doubt you'll have an army following you around by the time you return. _

_Just behave yourself, my love. No tantrums! Except as a joke. _

_Things are going well here. You are so far away now, and Anora is nagging me to do various kingly things. You would have thought she could have just done it all herself. At least, she seemed to think she could do it when we were at the Landsmeet. _

_I miss you, Elissa. And I love you._

_Please, by the maker, take care of yourself. You mean more to me than the entirety of Thedas. I'd raise an army of old god's and apostates just to keep you from harm. _

_I'll be waiting for your return, my love. _

_Alistair_

- % -

_Your Majesty_

_Fergus has sent your message to me while I am staying in Antiva. I am seeking our old Antivan friend, rumour has it he has returned to his home. I suspect he is up to no good, per usual. Perhaps I will travel to Orlais afterwards. Leliana did not ask for help searching for Marjolaine, but perhaps she will accept my offer. A part of me thinks she did not wish for me to leave your side, but alas, duty calls._

_I do hope your wedding plans are underway. It would be a tragedy if the Theirin line does not live on from within the womb of Ferelden's most powerful woman._

_Elissa Cousland, Commander of the Grey._

- % -

_Elissa_

_Maker's breath Elissa, what have I done to deserve this? I was certain you loved me before you left. Are you with someone else? Not meaning to be Jealous or anything, but you haven't fallen for Zevran, have you?_

_Yes, Anora is making all the plans herself. You would have thought she wanted to be Andraste herself with all the pompous nonsense. It makes me miss you more. But "Ferelden's most powerful woman?" Then who are you? You could have trampled her a few months ago, but you chose to shackle me to her leg instead! I jest...but you are too hard on yourself._

_Anora refuses to wait until the traditional summer months. It is, supposedly, going to be a grand midwinter ceremony. _

_Come back home soon, Elissa. If not, you will find me ill...probably poisoned by Anora. All this nonsense and noble's squabbling like the young boys in the Chantry is draining. I'd rather be at your side slaying Darkspawn instead. That I'm good at._

_You have probably known this longer than I have, but that the roads are becoming more frequently infested with Darkspawn. Ferelden needs you Elissa._

_You are coming back to Ferelden, aren't you? _

_A kiss on the cheek and one lower down!_

_Your Royal Bastard, _

_A._

- % -

_Your Majesty._

_Could you clarify how you wish for me to address you? It seems I am upsetting you. I am only replying to you as is proper for a King of Ferelden._

_Zevran? Why would I choose to bed Zevran? He is a close friend and confidante, little more._

_I am about to leave Antiva now, to travel towards Orlais. No, I do not plan to raise an army. What would give you that idea? An army of apostates and old gods, my king, are you thinking straight? Perhaps you should see Wynne and tell her your troubles._

_It is good Anora has the sense to be wed with you sooner rather than later. Unfortunately I will not be near Ferelden to celebrate your wedding, but I wish you congratulations._

_Yes, I have heard that Darkspawn still roam in Ferelden. I am sure you are more than capable of managing the situation for now, if I should be so bold, your Highness. I will return with a vengeance for the Darkspawn when I have the chance._

_Commander of the Grey._

- % -

_Elissa_

_Maker's breath! What has happened for you to act like this! Maker curse you for putting me on this damn throne, otherwise I would be chasing you to find out what in the Maker's will is making you act like this! I can't believe what I am reading! That's just...unnaturally cold. My name is Alistair if you haven't remembered, not "my King" or "Your highness."_

I do not spend a day without loving you, Elissa. I do not spend a night without wishing I was spending my nights with you wrapped up in my arms. I even miss you when I am eating lunch. It's just not the same watching you pig out in good grey warden fashion.

_Maker damn the bastard who killed Cailan. We would be together then and you would not be writing letters that sound as romantic as a nug's ass._

_As part of my duty as King, I have to quell some unease in the Bannorn, apparently Loghain had promised them that there would be some huge boon in supporting him do something else unjust. _

_That's not the worst part. When I came to bed last night, someone was in my bed. Bann Esmerelle. Have you SEEN the woman? She has a ...thing for her nose? I don't even know what to call it. Apparently, Anora is barren so she will save us all. Hardly. I had to pretend that I thought I mistook her room for mine, and ran right out of the room..._

This mess doesn't end, Elissa. I wish you could come give me some advice on what I should be doing. I find myself almost asleep at court, dreaming of you. 

_Elissa, do you love me? I remember the first time you admitted you loved me, after our first night together. Is just telling me that really so hard? I open each of your letters, fumbling around with my heart pounding in my ears, hoping that you even acknowledge my love for you...have I done something horribly wrong?_

_I'm feeling like a fool here!_

_Damn it, Elissa, please. Just, write to me. Tell me something, anything at all._

_Your Warden, A._

- % -

_Your Majesty._

_I have received your last letter late it seems, and I hear the wedding went well. I have been told there was no honeymoon. How uncharacteristically unromantic of you. I hear that Anora is expecting your heir after all – congratulations. It wasn't so hard, was it? _

_Bann Esmerelle was in your bed? Propositioning you before your wedding? Nose aside, but since when did she aspire to be queen? I find that...disturbing._

_However, my duty remains in Amaranthine. I am on my way from Highever, and my guide is arriving soon to take me to Vigil's Keep._

_Maker bless you._

_Elissa, Warden Commander._

- % -

After reading the last letter, Elissa dropped the last piece of vellum onto the floor. She flopped back onto her cabin bed, her appetite gone. So her words had been cold. But Alistair didn't see the tears free falling as she wrote the same letter over and over again, eroding the emotion and love from them until they finally reflected nothing she had wanted to write. 

_Please, don't listen to me, don't marry her._

_Just let her take the maker damn throne and come to me, Alistair._

_I miss you._

_I need you._

_I love you._

_A kiss lower down? Where exactly are you meaning, my prince?_

_Bann Esmerelle was in your BED? Maker's breath, I have half the mind to march back to Denerim and behead her myself! _

Carefully, she stretched out to grab a quill, ink and blank vellum from her pack. Now she never intended to return to Denerim, there was one letter she needed to write. Whether or not she sent it, however, or burnt it with the others, she would decide later.

- % -

_Alistair, love._

_I am sorry for all the hurt I have caused. I am sorry for the endless running, the sneaking, and the lying. Do you want the truth? I would have given it freely, but I was afraid of all the hurting._

I love you Alistair. I didn't give you to Anora to save Ferelden. I saw no reason she couldn't have been a successful ruler. However, you wanted to ascend the throne. I was pregnant days before the Landsmeet, and I had only just lost our child, suffering a miscarriage. Wynne was busy distracting you, sending you to find local merchants to find items she "needed", like new socks.

I had assumed we would be together after the Landsmeet, but you pointed out you needed an heir I could not give. The words you spoke were true, and I saw it in your eyes as you spoke. You weren't just sad for me, Alistair. If you remained with me, you would never have a family. You would never hear the pitter patter of little feet. Your life started on such a foul note, I couldn't get in the way of making you happy. 

_I never expected for Anora not to be able to birth her child. Has this happened before? Is this what happened with her and Cailan? Or did she simply never fall pregnant. Either way, I fear I have not done her any favours by saving her life._

_My mother spoke of "The barren ones." The ones who their husbands sleep with mistresses to keep their family name, and it pains me that Anora will not be added to that list._

_I am not running away from you out of spite. You do not know the extent of which I cried after every single letter came my way. How I cried your name, not title, for hours upon end. How each of my friends shook their heads in pity, then tried to pair me up with a friend or two (prostitutes, in Zevran's case!). _

_I am running away to keep myself from falling at your feet, begging for you to stay with me. It would only cost us a lot of pain. As you once said, "If I don't end it now, I fear I never will be able to."_

_And I convinced you otherwise, foolishly, desperately._

_Andraste's blood, this sounds exactly like the letters I have rewritten a thousand times to take the emotion out of them. You need to move on, as do I, but here is the last letter I can give you. I will not be returning to Denerim, my love. If you need any correspondence, please, look to my second, Nathanial or even Oghren._

Your love  
Elissa.

- % -

Elissa stared down at her hands. She had cut every letter, bar the last one, into hundreds of little pieces. She had climbed to the top of the ship, feeling the wind at her back. It was cold, almost too cold to be outside. She sucked in her breath, trying to quell her hands from shaking. The rain was coming down in buckets now, and it ran through her hair, into her face and down her neck. Shaking like a leaf, she raised the pouch that held the thousands of pieces of vellum into the air. She trembled as the pieces left the pouch, catching on the wind and travelling out to sea. She could hear Isabella yelling, screaming something to someone below, but for now, her attention was on the bits and pieces, evidence, flying out to sea.

Thunder rolled from the clouds, the clouds that were far too low. Elissa turned around, trying to see ahead of her.

She wasn't sure if she heard the crack, or felt the sudden impact first. The sea between Ferelden and the Free Marches was not a forgiving one. Rocky outcrops were to be expected – and avoided. Elissa's ears stung for a moment as she felt her feet leave the wooden floor. She was falling suddenly, the boat groaning and tipping to a side. She grabbed for something, anything, her hands fumbling on a rope before slipping. Then she was falling again, crashing into the sea like a bag of bricks. The waves threw her as she battled to stay above the water. Gasping. Darkness. Gasping again.

She felt the ocean push her, propelling her in whatever direction it chose. She felt a desperate scream leave her throat, echoing around her, matching the screaming around her.

She was going to drown.

A/N: Fanfiction doesn't like me today! First I manage to upload chapter five again (thank-you to those who pointed that out!), then it eats my formatting!


	7. Shipwrecked

_She tried to keep her head above the water, her armour pulling her down. She kicked furiously, trying to stay afloat. With each breath she took, she desperately pulled at the buckles of her armour, trying to free herself. She was no stranger to the sea, her family taking regular trips to swim from Highever. But not like this, not in a storm. A wave crashed atop her, forcing her down under the sea. Her legs ached, struggling against the water to force her upward. Her lungs ached, burned. Finally, the last slippery buckle was freed, her body slipping free of the drake skin. She moved faster in nothing but her undergarments, her head emerging above the water. She drew in huge breaths, panting. Then she was moving again, a wave crashing down over her head. She could see a shoreline in the distance, dwarfed under a mountain. She pulled herself that way, fighting against the currents. She screamed out, desperation in her cry. It was hopeless, it was too far away, and she was far too exhausted. She was going to sink, she was going to drown. For a moment, she was sure another wave would hit, water splashing her in the face. Then for a moment, her heart both jumped than sank. Two large paws splashed madly towards her, determination set within the hound's eyes. She felt a tear cross her soaked face. She reached out to him, her hand unconsciously finding the spot beneath his collar to rub. If her hound would jump the ship to be with her, there was no way she would let him drown._

Alistair stood at the harbour, wearing nothing more than simple cheap splint mail, more than a few days stubble and less than week's sleep disguising his face. With luck, he had told himself, he wouldn't stand out amongst the crowd. There was someone he was looking for however, somebody due back into the harbour with a damaged boat. He had spent most of the day there, and true to his patience, the Siren's Call finally rolled into the harbour. It seemed to move in slow motion, the sailors rushing backwards and forwards as the ship slowly crept towards the docks. Alistair waited, his fist clenching and relaxing as he watched the sailors set the ropes anchoring the ship. Eventually, sailors clambered down off the ship, some muttering to one another – some heading directly to the pearl. There were two women Alistair were interested in finding, one more so than the other. He felt his heart sinking slowly as the last woman emerged from the ship alone. Isabella.

"Isabella!" He called out. He felt his stomach knot and promptly rise to form a heavy lump in his throat. "Is she on your ship?"

He saw her spin to face him in slow motion, dark circles under her eyes, a haunted expression drilling into his soul. Her eyes flickered in recognition, her face contorting into a pitiful grimace.

"I'm so sorry."

Maker. She sure knew how to get herself into a mess. Elissa rolled herself onto all fours, hands atop rocky sand, her breath leaving her in sharp barks. She felt her hand slip on top of wet fur. Opening her eyes with a groan, her Mabari lay in front of her, his breathing laboured and slow. With effort, she tried to pull herself upright, and once again, her world spun black.

_Over here! They're alive – by the maker! _

She could feel hands pulling her upright – and someone, something familiar nuzzling her. She opened her eyes, grimacing in the sheer light of it all.

_We need to get her to the mage!_

_She's coming around._

Get that dog out from under my foot!

She could remember the stumbling, the hands lifting her into what seemed to be a makeshift bed on a merchant caravan. Then the shaking, the noise, the familiar sound of the seashore. The screeching of gulls exacerbating her thumping head. She felt a dozy smile wrap around her face. If only Shale were here to make their screeching stop. Soon enough, amongst the licking and the thumping of the cart ride, her vision came back. She was lying on some form of bear skin, salt encrusted around her eyes. She pushed herself upright, nausea flowing right back to her. Then it happened again. This time, she desecrated the side of the wagon, losing the contents of her salt water stomach. With a groan, she lay back onto the wagon. She knew the voices above her head. The Drydens.

- - % - -

Anora stood in her small clothes, her reflection in her large ornate mirror staring back at her in horror. Her hair was still going grey at an astonishing rate, her face still contorted and lined with heavy lines. Her lips had thinned, her skin fragile. She felt her bottom lip quiver. Where there had once been dark brown lumps of rotting flesh on her arms, it started to heal at an astonishing rate, the flesh falling off to reveal pinker skin. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. Her rips were clearly visible while dressed in her small clothes, yet all she could eat would not satisfy her. Her servants already snuck her second servings, and all around her there were whispers. Some of her servants had been caught telling others she ate the entire night – and later purged her meals, desperately trying to keep her body youthful to please the King. Anora closed her eyes, reaching out for a dress. Only the former were true, yes, she could eat for the entire night with no ill effect. She had no need to purge, no care to please the King. She pulled her thin legs into her dress, buckling the straps up herself. If her servants saw her like this, they would begin a second round of rumours. She couldn't let even her closest friends see her like this. This was a foul grotesque , ghoulish thing to become.

Anora took unsteady steps to her writing desk, her hair messy and frizzed around her hairline. With a sob, she sat, resting her forehead on the desk. Surrounding her, the buzzing, the buzzing. Always the noises, the cries, the dreams. The buzzing, noises, trying to get under her skin. Then her dreams, Alistair never mentioned these dreams. Darkspawn, everywhere. Deep underground, they surrounded dead carcasses, chomping down on their flesh, ripping dwarves from limb to limb, streams of blood painting their walls. She sobbed, snatching a quill and vellum.

_Father, I know you are beyond the grave now. _

_Please, I need your help from beyond the Fade. I am trapped here, and I am slowly losing my mind. I do not know what that vile wench has done to me, yet I see no other Grey Wardens who act nor look the same as I. The servants mock me, some can only eye me from the corner of their eyes. I do not know what to do anymore, father, I am lost._

_I need you._

She started at the letter for a moment, a sob escaping her mouth. Slowly and surely, she rolled the letter up tightly before tossing it into her fireplace. Her father would never hear her calls; her father was slain by the same monster that her husband seeks.

Anora was bound. She could not leave Denerim. Alistair had taken off leaving Eamon in his place, leaving her alone. She needed another grey warden, someone, something to tell her what was going on.

- - % - -

Alistair stared blankly at his tankard.

_I'm so sorry Alistair. Isabella had repeated_. _We were caught in a storm. We would have been fine, the sea no match for our ship, until we hit a rocky outcrop. If she had been in her cabin...she would have been fine. She had thrown something overboard...and when we hit, she was thrown from the ship. That Mabari jumped in after her, but we could not find them after we made makeshift repairs. We do not know what happened to them. We will be in the harbour for a few weeks yet making repairs. After that, well, we will be going the goods we lost during the impact.._

Isabella had hesitated, asking him to wait at the pearl. Soon enough, she returned – carrying Elissa's pack in one hand, a smudged piece of vellum in the other. Her letter, her admission – numbed him. He stared into his tankard, the ale still untouched.

There were two possibilities. One, Elissa had perished at sea with her hound at her side. This left...Morrigan to him, and him alone. Two, Elissa was out there somewhere, having washed up alive. Slowly, he stood, his heart still sinking. Either way, he concluded, there was a journey ahead of him.

Slowly, Elissa felt herself come to. She felt the power behind a healing spell, a bone in her wrist clicking back into place. It was not the warm, comforting power of Wynne's magic. No, this felt sharp, prickly and vigorous. She heard herself groan, forcing her eyes open once again, pulling herself up into a sitting position. No, this wasn't a ship's cabin. There was an uneasy feeling here, nibbling under her skin. The floor was wooden, her bed makeshift, and the entire room felt damp to the touch. She looked up at her healer, an impossibly old mage standing before her. This was Soldier's Peak.

"You're hound will take longer to heal than you, I'm afraid. Infection has already set upon his chest." He stated plainly, turning to leave. "I would not take him straight away, the cold will no doubt kill him soon enough."

Elissa tried to call out to him, a cough replacing her voice.  
"W..Wait!" She splurted. "You...how did I get here? Levi?" She asked, her voice low and rasping.

The mage said nothing, already on the way out.

"maker..." she whispered. "I...oh, thank you."

Elissa looked down at her hound, asleep at her feet. His breathing was laboured, his head resting on her shin. Yet his tail still wagged happily, traces of food around the fur of his mouth, an empty bowl on the floor.

"Thank you boy" she whispered, kissing his head. "thank you."


	8. Surprise

"How on Thedas did you, out of all people, find me?" Elissa asked, her head tilted to the side. Levi laughed for a moment, motioning for her to follow him around the back of the fortress.

"Ah, well, you see...us Dryden's are always looking for a bargain." Levi explained. "We can see the shore from here...you see, we didn't see you, what we saw was the cargo that had been washing ashore." Pointing out, Elissa followed his finger to look out toward the shoreline. Wooden crates and what looked to be the remains of old ships littered the shores. "Ships capsize and get destroyed along the coast quite often. Most of the time, you see, there are no survivors. Whose ever ship you were on got out lucky – seems they had to throw a lot of their cargo overboard to save their selves from sinking. But if there are no survivors..." Levi trailed off. "Then there are no owners of all that cargo, you see? No point in leaving it to go to waste."

Elissa raised an eyebrow, laughing.

"You found me while you were scavenging Isabella's cargo?" She laughed. "Well, I surely can't complain."

Levi shuffled for a second.

"You won't be, uh, telling her where her cargo is, will you?" Levi looked uneasy. Elissa thought for a moment, chewing on her lip.

"I won't tell her where it is, I doubt I'll even be seeing her for quite some time." Elissa sighed. "But Isabella is not slow. If she wants to know where it is, she'll find out, regardless of who has told her or who hasn't."

"Right. I see" Levi nodded. "Well, thank you Warden."

Elissa looked out across the snow, westward to Orlais. "Avernus thinks we'll be able to head out in a few more days, my hound is doing quite well now. We're just waiting for him to be well enough to travel in the snow.

"Well, remember warden, you're always welcome here...I mean, the Fort is the Grey Warden's and all but, we'll...you know what I mean." Levi finished. Elissa laughed, nodding her head. "Thank you Levi."

"You've been avoiding something I wanted to ask, Avernus." Elissa announced. "What is happening with your research? I spared your life, and I have the right to know!"

The blood mage muttered under his breath for a moment.

"It's almost finished!" He complained. "Now, I've wasted enough time and energy saving you ingrate, so leave me be."

Elissa frowned, picking up a piece of his work. 

"I think you forget, mage, I am the Commander of the Grey Wardens, and you are, indeed, a warden."

"Bah!" he cried. "Look what good Sophie Dryden did. I care for no Commander."

Elissa frowned, glaring at him.

"I do not ask much! Once I have my answer, I will leave you in peace. I wish to know the outcomes of your research!"

Avernus glared, standing up to face Elissa.

"Fine! I am weeks, if not days away from my final research." He grumbled. "I've...unlocked, some secrets, while revealing something most interesting..an reversal."

"A reversal of what?" Elissa asked, picking up a small vial of clear fluid.

"The calling. Those who have paid their duty, those who do not wish to face the calling, or even those who have elected to leave your order. It is a way out."

Elissa frowned, chewing her lip.

"That sounds..."

"What? Too good to be true? Dangerous? Costly? At the moment, it is all of those things and more." The mage muttered. "I lack one final thing in my research, and unless you plan on being it, I suggest you leave me in peace now!"

"One final thing? What are you talking about?" Elissa pressed.

"Test subjects." He muttered. "I suggested to one of those Dryden wimps they go through the joining, yet they are too cowardly."

"How many participants do you need, exactly?" Elissa asked cautiously

The mage sighed, sitting at his desk.

"One, if this is sufficient – however it almost never is. To produce another vial would take me weeks." He grunted. "So, if you planned to take it yourself, there are no promised of another." He yawned then, a dark expression falling over his face. "Or, I could give you my research. Time has gone on, warden, and I grow tired. There will be more wardens that may be able to pick it up."

Elissa was silent, closing her eyes. She could take the potion, and one day have a family of her own. She grimaced. Then she'd have to watch Alistair leave, heading to the deep roads to fight to the death. Then there was Anora...did she not deserve a cure? No... Alistair's grave face came to her, watching over his sick Queen. Images of the entire collection of warden's at Amaranthine flew through her mind. Anders. Oghren. Nathianal. She thought back then, remembering the sick look on Anora's face. Morrigan.

"Avernus...what do you know of grey warden's conceiving? Alistair...he, long story short, conceived a child with the queen. The babe died during childbirth, and she fell ill with what appeared to be blight sickness...she survived the joining, but...was it the child? Can a grey warden's blood, or a child of a grey warden cause..."

"Bah!" The mage cried. "Have you ever fought with another man and found him blighted? Whatever caused her to have the blight, was not an infant. Besides, the babes that were birthed here to grey warden parents never shared the taint."

"I...I see..." Elissa said, straightening up. "So you know about this? You have records?" She asked. "There have been children born here to grey wardens?"

The mage glared at her.

"I am busy with research! Must you babble on about insignificant matters? The answer is no – there are no records, but yes, I know some. I should have, because they were my own children."

Elissa felt her heart flounder in her chest.

"You...you have children."

"I did, there is a difference." He snorted. "When Sophie Dryden fell, I did not just flee to avoid the King's men, I went for my children. Too late. The demons had already reached them." He glared, turning away from her.

"I...I am so sorry." Elissa whispered. "I shouldn't have asked."

The mage glared.

"I will tell you what I know. My wife was another mage here. We were warned we would never conceive, and for a long time, we did not. She lost many pregnancies, some early – and some long after her abdomen had begun to swell. There was never any reason we could put blame too. Then came a witch from the Kocari wilds. She...ah, I do not know what she did. Neither do I wish to know. Then came our girls, two raven haired beautiful girls."

Elissa nodded slowly, hope filling her chest for a moment.

"Flemeth? And they were healthy? Normal children?"

The mage paused.

"Flemeth? I do not know. Healthy? Yes. Normal? That depends what Normal is. If normal is like other children their age, yes they were close enough to normal."

"What do you mean?" Elissa pressed.

"They knew too much about magic." He huffed. "No seven year old child should be able to control an inferno outside the fortress to make spring come early. Create one, perhaps, but control it? No."

"Nothing else?" Elissa asked.

The mage stood up, glaring.

"Will you stop asking questions about children!" He snapped. "I have days left on my research, and I will not be interrupted in this fashion!"

Elissa sighed, standing up.

"As you wish...thank-you for your help so far. If I can find a...willing, volunteer...perhaps I will assist you. Thank you, Avernus."

- & -

_Elissa banged on the glass with all her might. It would flex, bend, but not break. Elissa felt her breath storm past her, her ears ringing from her screaming. Anora stood in her reflection, her blonde hair cascading down her back. She turned, this way and then the next. Slowly, she dressed in Elissa's own armour. She tried her daggers for weight, twirling them in her hands. Carefully, she sheathed them. Elissa sunk onto her knee's, exhausted. She didn't want to look, she didn't want to see. _

_Alistair walked in behind Anora, his smile flickering the moment his eyes set upon his queen._

"Anora, my love" he purred. "I thought you'd look good...but not this good!" His smile lit up, taking Anora's hands.

Anora laughed softly. 

"_I'm so glad it worked out this way." She purred. "The Grey Wardens make a great army for Ferelden. You should have had that elf get rid of that vile Cousland wench sooner."_

Alistair laughed then, taking her into his arms. He kissed down her neck, wrapping his arms around the small of her waist.

"You only had to say the word."

Anora smiled at him lovingly. A small girl emerged then, wild tumbles of blonde hair, clutching the head of a dead woman. Elissa felt herself grow cold, her jaw falling open.

"Mummy!" the girl cried. "Grey Warden's make the best toys!"

Elissa jumped straight up, her heart hammering. She slowly took deep breaths. It was a dream...always, always, the dreams. She closed her eyes, praying silently to the maker that she hadn't cried aloud in shock. Her dream had gone from bad to unbelievable. She sighed, falling back on her makeshift pillow. Time seemed to creep by. Elissa's eyes remained open, fighting the moist tears forming at the side of her eyes. It was silly. Stupid. The dream wasn't real. It, never, ever, could be real. Yet, Elissa felt her bubble had been entirely popped.

Elissa rolled onto her side. She promised Morrigan, to never, ever follow her. Now, according to Avernus, she would have no reason too. Anora, in theory, could do with the antidote..provided it worked. Unless she found Morrigan to help Alistair have a child with Anora...Then, she could remain Queen after... Elissa bit her lip. After Alistair took his calling. _Maker. _She begged. _Please...does it have to be this way?_

_She was back at the palace, her room the way she had intended for it to be left. She was waiting, her hands trembling with excitement. The wine was set beside the bed, the goblets ready. The cheese, crackers, and two baskets of food were under the bed. Now, all she needed, was him. Elissa let her dark locks flow down over her naked chest, a tinge of pink modesty across her cheeks. She climbed into the bed, drawing up the blanket to her neck. And she waited. And waited. Eventually, she drank from her goblet, and waited some more. Finally, he emerged. His blonde hair was dishevelled, many times had his hands run through it in anxiety. Dark crescents hung below his eyes, but still, his smile made up for it. Guilt nibbled at Elissa for a moment, slowly pulling down the sheets. The bashful, eager look that crossed his face, however, made the feeling of guilt ebb away. He undressed, his ears pink as Elissa watched him take every item of clothing off. Climbing into bed, Elissa rested her cheek on his chest.  
"I missed you" she whispered. Alistair yawned, rubbing her back.  
"and I, you" he whispered back. They stayed that way for awhile, satisfied with the rise and fall of each others breathing._

"I was thinking...about Amaranthine..." Elissa began, raising her head to look at him. His eyes were closed.

"Mmmm?" Alistair managed.

"About when I should go see the new wardens from Orlais" She finished.

"Oh...that." Alistair mumbled. "Maybe..." 

"_Maybe?" Elissa asked, raising her eyebrow "maybe what?"_

_Elissa's answer came as a quiet snore. With a deflated sigh, she nestled back down, tracing patterns on his chest. A quiet creak alerted Elissa to an intruder on her sanctuary. Elissa's head shot up, looking for the source. The room was still, silent. Suspiciously, Elissa lowered her head, waiting for another sound. She closed her eyes till they were almost shut, peering at the door through her lashes. Soon enough, a maid of Anora's slipped out of Elissa's wardrobe and through her door to the hall. Elissa's little secret was out. Elissa watched Alistair sleep for what seemed like eternity, thoughts buzzing through her mind. _

_"I'm sorry" She admitted quietly, kissing him on the cheek. "Tomorrow...I have to go."  
_

Alistair looked around, his eyes adjusting. Soldier's peak had changed very little from his last visit. Levi and his family still had set up an encampment around the entrance. He watched a figure emerge from the peak, jogging down the stairs. Blonde hair sat upon his shoulders, a thin, weasley face staring back at him.

"Levi Dryden!" He called out. "Long time no see...I...I ha-"

"Oh, right." Levi didn't miss a beat, pointing back to the keep. "I guess you're looking for 'er then. She's in the peak, just waiting for her hound to recuperate. I hear he's got some nasty infection. Nobody and nothing Avernus can't keep from dying, I suppose."

"She's...alive?" Alistair breathed. Levi grinned for a moment

"Guess my debt has been repaid no?" He laughed. "Like I said, nobody and nothing that old mage can't keep from death."

His feet moved before his brain, his hands throwing open the keep doors with force, slamming them against the wall.

Elissa heard the crash, following by the thundering of armour. She bolted upright, her hound growling – and pausing – at the sound. Elissa withdrew her daggers, leaning into a defensive stance. Her door flew open, and she leaned forward, wrists ready for the attack. Her eyes locked. It was him. Pausing for a split second, her daggers dropped to the floor. He looked at her, relief washing over exhausted eyes. All was silent, save for her hound setting back upon the floor. Then he pushed forward, enveloping her in a tight squeeze. She froze then, his arms holding her tight.

"Thank the maker!" He breathed. "I thought you were dead for sure!"

Elissa stayed still, aware of his gruff beard pressing against the top of her head, the strength of his arms as they held her close to the splintmail. She dared not speak a word, her eyes staring at the wall next to her. Slowly, he pulled back for but a moment, his lips touching and fiercely kissing her own. She felt the familiar surge of warmth spread through her, her fingers tingle and her body ache for him. She closed her eyes for a moment, wanting to forget it all. What she saw behind her eyes, however, was not the security of the dark. Elissa pushed back, pushing Alistair away from her, her body recoiling in shock.


	9. Running

Anora screamed, her voice echoing through the castle. She pulled at her hair, ripping it out in shreds. Half of the guard had been drawn, and Anora saw no relief. She sat upright in her bed, her screams erupting into sobs. Her chest heaved, her hands clutching the silver and gold threads of her hair.

"You're highness! Please! Stop it at once!" Erlinda begged. "Please!'

Anora sobbed, waving her hands to dismiss the guards before her. Between her fingers lay clusters of silver hair. Her body shook, unaware of the efforts of Erlinda to comfort her.

"I...She fed him! I see it! The dreams show me!" Her eyes moved rapidly about her room, looking about her for proof that her dream contained fragments of truth.

"You see what, your highness?" Erlinda pressed, concern written across her brow.

"She...she...that vile monster!" she sobbed. "She fed my father's remains to the Darkspawn!"

** * % * **

Down the hall, in the advisors private chambers, Eamon grabbed Isolde by the shoulders.

"Isolde!" he scolded. "Whatever you are doing, whatever you are planning, it is too much! Please, before you are discovered" he hissed. "Stop it at once!"

Isolde turned towards him, the delight on her face not sedated by her husband's concerns.

"Oh, my husband. I promise...there will be no more." She turned back to her bed, her fingers clasped tightly. "I did not cause this...disturbance, tonight, no. This came from Anora's own coconscious. I merely asked where Loghain's body was buried after she beheaded him. I concerned, you see, the Darkspawn may have dug him up when Denerim had been under siege"

Elissa's room was quiet, save for the low snore of her hound sleeping. She stared out the small window, Alistair sitting on the floor next to her as she leant against the window frame in silence. He leant back against her wall, suffering quietly in the forced silence. Elissa stared out to the sea in the distance, her eyes watching every wave that rolled by. Alistair stared at his feet, his thumbs twirling together. She had briefly explained her discussions with the Avernus in the tower, and then turned, in silence, forcing her attention on the sea.

"So... what if... Avernus is wrong?" Alistair asked nervously. "Anora hardly made friends with Darkspawn."

Elissa shrugged, her eyes not moving from the waves.

"If the taint wasn't from the babe, no, I do not know how she got in contact with the blight...unless A refugee from Amaranthine spread it?"

"No...No" Alistair shook his head. "She was too isolated, she refused to go near them."

"A maid? No illnesses...ghoulish...appearances?"

"Possible, but I doubt it." He shrugged.

Elissa closed her eyes, rubbing her hands together. The mountain air was far from warm, the tips of her fingers numb.

"Why did you come?" She asked softly.

"I...I thought you were dead" he admitted quietly. "After I heard you left with Isabella...and her ship. She said you went overboard. "

Elissa kept her eyes tightly shut.

"That does not answer my question. If I were to be dead, why would you come here?"

"Isabella's ship crashed upon a rocky shore for repairs - right here. Eamon said the Dryden's were scavengers here, and if...they would have found your body..."

"I see. You can hardly take my body to a burial on your own."

"No..." Alistair sighed. "Fine. If you ...didn't make it, I would have gone searching after Morrigan myself."

"Oh." Elissa sounded surprised. "You weren't looking for me. You were looking for Morrigan."

"No, it's not like that at all." Alistair tightened his fist. "Elissa, what's wrong with you lately?"

"Excuse me?" Elissa asked, turning from the window, her eyebrows arched. "There is something wrong with me?"

Alistair leaned back, gritting his teeth

"Isabella gave me your things."

"What? So?" Elissa spat.

"Your letter."

"What? My letters? You gave them to me yours- oh." She stopped, the colour draining from her face.

"You..." Alistair begun. "You never told me you were pregnant, you never told me that you put Anora on the throne _to carry my babies, _you never told me ..." he paused then, his eyes soft and sorrow filled. "You never told me you still loved me. Here I thought you...I thought you truly had moved on without me."

Elissa was silent, her teeth clamped down on the red of her bottom lip. She averted her gaze, anywhere, anything but Alistair's eyes, in fear that whatever was left inside her chest would fracture into irreplaceable shards. Slowly, she let go of her lip.

"I...I don't know what to say." She shrugged. "You...you have the advantage there, for...I don't know if I would have ever sent you that letter." She whispered.

"That's my point!" Alistair pushed, anger bubbling forth into his voice. "You haven't told me anything, _Commander." _He spat. "You haven't told me anything, Elissa, and have been doing things _assuming_ it's what I wanted!"

Elissa refused to meet his anger, turning from him. She kept her eyes tightly shut, her fists clenching as she prepared her defence, her walls building around her. Her mind raced, trying to find the words to deflect to him, to save her dignity, to rebuke. But there was none, for all of her efforts and actions, were of those of her own, designed carefully to protect none other than him.

His hands grabbed her shoulders then, spinning her to look at him. Sad amber eyes met hers, and then, she broke. The rage building in her eyes softened, the lump in her throat tightening its hold, the last few fragments in her heart crushed. Her lip did not have time to quiver, nor the tears in her eyes touch her cheek.

He moved then, while she was shocked, her face pale. He pressed his lips against hers, his arms pulling her in tight. Elissa closed her eyes, her breath hitching. She froze as he moved closer, deepening the kiss. She didn't know what to call it. Her body was responding, her skin trembling. Alistair's fingers slipped under the shirt she had been wearing, the warmth of his fingers against the cool of her skin. She could feel warmth within herself spreading under her small clothes, hear every hitch in his breath. He pushed her against the wall, their kiss hungry with desperation. The effort she had put in trying to put distance between them vanished in the blink of an eye, destroyed by their carnal attraction, two moths drawn to the same flame.

She broke the kiss first, pushing him away only far enough to see his face. Her fingers traced down his jaw, feeling the rough spike of his chin. She could see the desperation on his face, the way his eyebrows knotted together, the ways his eyes begged. She could smell him again, the familiar wood smoke, and upon her lip the familiar taste of his kiss. She kissed him again, and again, the grip of her nails digging into his old splintmail. The thoughts of what was right, what was honest and what should be done slipped away, lost in the haze of his breath.

He lowered her down, slowly, onto the soft fur of her bedding, his fingers wrapping around the tops of the trousers she had been wearing. In one smooth motion, he pulled them down and away from her. Elissa reached out for his other hand, his lips finding hers, kisses trailing down her jaw and neck. In a maddening and desperate rush, she grasped for any buckle or clip she could find, freeing him from the inflexible armour and underclothes. He tugged at her shirt, freeing her breasts and finally meeting skin to skin.

They met eye to eye then, their breathing deep and irregular, their kisses reuniting the two lovers.

- - % - -

It was that time again. Isolde smiled, boarding her carriage. The seasons were finally changing, from the snowing winter rain and wind, to the sweet smell of the new flowers poking through the ground. She clasped her hands to her lap, smiling softly to herself. She closed her eyes, appreciating the warmer weather spring brought. It was time to visit Connor in the tower, this time without Eamon. The spring flowers reminded her of Connor, how he would pluck flowers from the grass as a child to put in her hair, to the toy horses in the mud from the spring rain. She sighed, missing the smell of his hair, the grasp of his grip. Eamon would meet her there, after proposing an official trip to see Irving – in reality, an excuse, just to see her little boy once more. Isolde's train of thought carried over to Alistair, and with a hint of guilt – his companion who had saved both a child and mothers life from the demon possessing him. Isolde sighed, relaxing back into the carriage. Blood for Blood their debts would be repaid. It would just be a matter of time.

Elissa watched him sleep, the exhausted crescents around his eyes fading away the longer he slept. Elissa's, however, deepened. She watched the flutter of his eyelashes in his sleep, the mess of his hair before he had time to adjust it. She resisted reaching out to him, to trace her fingers along the lines of the muscles across his chest. _It'd be so easy to go back._ She thought to herself, watching the rise and fall of his chest. _To stay in the palace, to be his advisor, and to love him. _She moved away silently, quietly packing things in a leather rucksack. She tied her hair back behind her head, her Mabari standing guard at the door. His feral eyes met hers in silent understanding. _I...wish I could home with you. _She thought, watching his breath rising and falling, many times over. It would be dawn soon, and with the first light, she would flee. She felt her heart hammer in her chest, drilling away at her with guilt, her tears burning her eyes. With luck, Alistair would return to Denerim. She felt her lip quiver, immediately clamping it with the force of her teeth. Elissa would carry on west to Orlais – by foot, or take a merchant caravan if the opportunity arose. With silence only taught by a bard, she slipped out of her room and into the dark of the fortress, daring not to look back for one more time.

Hastily rubbing tears from her eyes, she found Levi cleaning his wares, ready to load them onto a caravan.

"I see you three are leaving already huh?" Levi laughed. "Well, warden, it was nice seeing you again." He smiled, placing his wares back on his caravan. "Is there anything I can get you?"  
Elissa looked surprised for a moment, shaking her head.

"I need new weapon and arms before I head to...Lothering." She concluded. "It will just be travelling with my Mabari. Alistair will leave for Denerim in the morning." Her eyes failed to keep up with her lie, a tears dangerously forming in her eyes.

"You...has something happened between you and the King?" Levi asked, somewhat surprised. "I would have said he was so desperate to find you yesterday, I hardly realised something was wrong." Elissa frowned, hesitant on how much to let out.

"Al...King Alistair is a married man." She explained, softly. "You know that, I know that. He can...hardly be seen...fraternizing with another..." Levi watched her expression, his eyebrow raising slowly. The corners of his smile cracked up and within moments, chuckles escaped his lips.

"Oh yes. Kings, never, fraternise with others. Not even _King Maric, _ would have done such a thing." Levi laughed. Elissa groaned, rubbing her temples.

"Fine, then Levi, look at it my way. What of my family name? You wish me to tarnish it by having the world knows that the Teryn of Highever's little sister is sleeping with the King? And what of – "

"Love?" Levi suggested. "I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he trusts you. I know what I see when I see it, Warden." Elissa ran her hands through her hair, pain running across her face for a moment.

"Are you going to show me you wares, Dryden, or should I be going?"

A/N: am I such a terrible person? Leaving you waiting for so long? Or perhaps I'm just pushing myself...just did four medical exams in three days...phewf. Review. I'll love you for it.


	10. Hope

The tunnels were maddening. She hated to admit it, but she was lost, and being lost didn't help her get back to the travelling routes. She swore, removing the copper lid of her oilskin. She took big gulps, trying to replenish her thirst. Her wardog offered no help, often sniffing behind her – and seemingly as lost as her. She gritted her teeth, having to admit it. She was lost. She froze then, every hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The thundering of armour as someone jogged. She was about to open her mouth to hush her dog into silence – when he took off, barking and madly swinging his tail.

"No!" she hissed. "Come back!" Either he didn't hear her, or he didn't listen. Elissa frowned. Somehow, she thought it could have been a little of both. She leaned back in the shadows, trying to assess the next move in her plan. Moments passed, and soon enough, she was positive it was who she was trying to avoid coming to find her.

"Elissa? Where are you?" He called out, and a few moments later "Blasted tunnels...how did Levi ever find this place anyway?" Elissa closed her eyes, but soon enough, her hound trotted right up next to her – and then plonked onto the ground, taking a moment out to clean his rear end.

Alistair calmly walked over to her hiding spot, hurt written across his face.

"Forgotten something?" He quipped. Elissa looked at him, letting out an aggravated sigh.

"I...Look. I'm sorry...I thought it would be best if I continued on my way. I'm alive, you don't need to worry about Morrigan – Avernus is sure the taint has nothing to do with childbirth. You need to go to Anora, and I need to go work on Grey Warden...stuff."

Alistair frowned.

"Grey Warden...stuff? Since when was Grey Warden business a secret from me?"

"Since you were King, I suppose." Elissa shrugged. "Look...I just...didn't, think it would be right if you followed me to Orlais."

"So, instead of telling me, I think you need to go back to being King – which, may I might add, was your idea – you snuck off at night, without me, assuming I wouldn't come looking for you, and even if I did – you told Levi you were going to Lothering, not Orlais."

"Did I? Oops?" Elissa offered.

Alistair folded his arms, glaring.

"So, what is so important in Orlais you can't tell me about it, maybe its...about...Maker, it's about Morrigan's child, isn't it."

"I don't..."

"She's not...of course she is, she's Morrigan. What is she doing? Is she plotting? Maker, she is, isn't she..."

"I don't know?" Elissa offered. "I was...going to pop in and say hello."

"What? For a cup of tea and a cookie?" Alistair laughed. "I'm sure she'll smile at you, give you some tea alright – with_ poison_."

"She is so not like that!" Elissa demanded. "She would never do that to me!"

"You'd like to think that!" He argued. "She was nice enough to you alright – when she wanted something!"

"Look!" She yelled, her voice echoing down the tunnels. "Fine! You know why am going? You know I lost your child. You know Anora's child died during childbirth. It has –something- to do with the taint, and that is why Grey Warden's don't have children – they die. Always. Avernus **had** children. His wife made some form of deal with someone who appears to be Flemeth – I thought Morrigan might be able to..."

"Help you conceive, like she conceived her child..." Alistair trailed off...

"No." Elissa finished. "Help Anora."

Alistair stared at her then, his facial expression hard to read.

"I...see." His head tilted to a side then, puzzlement crossing over him. "I want to come with you."

"No. " Elissa put it bluntly, folding her arms over her chest.

"This has more to do with ME than you! How can you just say...No!" Redness began to spread across his face then, his words more desperate and angry.

"I..." Elissa turned away. "You need to take care of Anora, perhaps try again for another..."

"I have a child, out there, alone. Another bastard child, and you know it. I deserve, at least, to see Morrigan isn't treating it like ...like...a...thing!"

"I can do that perfectly well on my own."

Alistair opened his mouth and closed it, his teeth gritting together.

"I said I was coming with you." He moved forward then, fury raging in his eyes. "and I meant it. Eamon is in my place, and knew I could be travelling to Orlais. I'm not staying in that palace, listening to arguments between nobles, while you get to go across the world. Elissa..I love you. " He moved forward then, pushing her against the wall. "I let you go once, I let you run, and I lost you. I'm not losing you twice."

Wynne expected to be welcomed back to the Palace with open arms from Alistair – not contempt from Anora. Still, there was something odd about the entire Situation. She had heard a rumour that Elissa had drowned at sea, among others, including she worshipped the Darkspawn and is pregnant with quintuplets to the son of a Howe, or twins to her "pet Apostate" which she no doubt assumed must have been the young mage she encountered in Amaranthine. Then, there were the Rumours of the King – who had snuck out of the palace after Elissa, and gone mad after her death never to be seen again. Of course, Eamon denied all such rumours, and maintained he is overseas greeting Nobles, and Anora had been too unwell to follow.

In all, something was not right. Wynne hummed over how she would approach Anora to find the truth, when she watched a man she recognised as a Grey Warden, marching with purpose to Anora's chambers, escorted by two guards.

Nathaniel stared at the sheer practicality of the inside of palace, his heart quickening under his thick armour. He had not been to the palace since he was a child, and his memories with his father were not fond ones. With a purposeful stride, he followed the guards who were leading him directly to the Queen. He did not see the mage fall silently in tow behind him, only to eavesdrop behind the doors as they were shut behind him.

Before him, the Queen stared at him with hollow eyes, her body looking as if it would snap in half if someone did so much as touch her. He bowed, as she flopped back down in the large chair at her window. Yet there was something familiar...close to home about her.

"Rise, warden. I take you are the son of Rendon Howe?" Anora asked, her voice hoarse.

Nathanial rose to his feet, defiance in his eyes. "Yes. He _was _my father."

"And I take your commander has no problems with it?" She asked, interest piping in her voice.

"No. We are good friends." Nathanial replied. "Is there a reason you have summoned me, your highness?" Nathanial furrowed his brow, wary of angering the Queen in Elissa's absence.

"You are aware, are you not, that your Commander conscripted me into the Grey Wardens?" Anora said softly, looking away. "To you, I am your equal."

"She...what?" Nathaniel stood, "I...never...understand. But why do you summon me?"

"Alistair" Anora spat "Left. I have no idea what it means to be a Grey Warden," her voice shook, turning away.

Nathaniel was silent for a moment, reeling in the shock of the last few moments. Clearing his throat, he tried to picture what his Commander had said to him.

"Dreams..." Nathaniel followed. "I had the most horrible dreams. I dreamt the Darkspawn feasting on corpses from raiding parties, I dreamt of Darkspawn...doing the most horrible things." Nathaniel shuddered. "It goes, eventually. We all share them...some of us even have the same dreams."

Anora's shoulders relaxed tremendously, letting out a sigh of relief.

"I...thank you." She sighed.

Nathaniel smiled then, his eyes tracing over the bones of her wrists

"And I haven't even BEGUN to talk about the appetite of a Warden!"

- - -% - -

Nathaniel left Anora's room after many hours – and long after many meals had been ordered. Anora saw him to his room, a sudden rejuvenated glow which had the servants in sudden chatter. Wynne was the first to approach him, preparing her face for a stern lecture. She thumped on his door twice, waiting for him to open. Sure enough, the door flew open to reveal the young man Elissa had been toting around with her in Amaranthine.

"You..." Nathaniel began. "You are the mage Elissa recognised in Amaranthine. She said you travelled with her in the blight."

"Yes, I am Wynne, a pleasure to meet you, young man."

"I..I am sorry, excuse my manners...I am Nathanial Howe."

"Yes, so I have heard. " Wynne stepped into his room as he opened the door further. "You do not know where Alistair and Elissa have gone, do you? It sounds very odd they have both vanished at the same time."

"It does? The Commander sent a message saying she was travelling to see an old friend in Orlais that may need her."

"Morrigan" Wynnes eyes darkened. "That maleficear was never up to no good!"

"Morrigan?" Nathaniel asks "I have never seen her. The Commander never mentioned here until recently."

"Morrigan...witch of the wilds, supposedly the daughter of the Flemeth" Wynne offered. "Travelled with her during the blight, alongside Alistair." Wynne paused. "I had not considered that Elissa may have gone to see her...and of the King? Does he travel too?" Wynne pressed

"She never mentioned it?" Nathanial shrugged. "Queen Anora mentioned he just...left. I do not know what she is doing...here I was forced to leave a drunk dwarf and an apostate in charge of the Arling." He shook his head. Wynne narrowed her eyes.

"Oghren. Oghren, is in charge, of an Arling?" Wynne repeated.  
"Yeah..." Sarcasm dripped from Nathanial's voice. "Don't worry, an apostate and another dwarf from the legion of the dead offered their assistance." 

Dear Father

I do not know why I write these letters, but it does not seem right to stop writing them when things are finally looking up. I still look repulsive, but I feel...I do not know what I feel. Nathanial Howe, the son Rendon himself spurred, sat for hours upon end, talking about the Grey Wardens. Something lights up in his eyes, and he laughs, talking about the fun they have together. He speaks of the budget that even worries The Hero of Ferelden herself, in which a large sum is taken up with food! He explains that no, I am not sick, and yes, Grey Warden's do eat a lot – even the woman. The dreams are not a figment of my insanity, nor the Maker's curse, but a side effect. He did not bring me all good news. He did say it was likely I could no longer conceive with Alistair – that a child with two grey wardens would be almost impossible. Perhaps, father, that is why she paired me with Alistair in the first place. Does this paint her as infertile? One day, perhaps in thirty years time, I would need to take my calling, though the idea of going to the deep roads does not please me. I would rather a quick death, by the hands of poison or a quick blade. It is a death sentence, but perhaps a death sentence merely postponed?

Father, I do not know this feeling. There was something, something about what he said. The smiles, the way he spoke with such passion about his cause. You would tell me I am talking nonsense, and to stay focused on Ferelden, but father, I suddenly feel...like this weight has been lifted. I feel...different.

Anora

This time, when Anora rolled the letter up into a tight scroll, kissed it and placed the vellum in the fireplace, she did not sob, nor did she cry. This time, a tiny smile, crept upon her lips.


End file.
